OF  BULWI 


PROSE  ROMANCES 

PLAYS  AND  COMEDIES 

OF  BULWER 


INTRODUCTIONS  TO 
THE  PROSE  ROMANCES 
PLAYS   AND    COMEDIES 

OF 

EDWARD  BULWER 
LORD    LYTTON 


BY 

E.  G.  BELL 


^^ 


CHICAGO 
WALTER  M.  HILL 

1914 


COPYBrOHT,  1914 
BY  E.  G.  BELI. 


THE  TORCH   PRBSS 

CKOAR    IIAI>IOS 

IOWA 


INSCRIBED  TO 

C.  E.  Wyman,  Esq. 

ST.  PAUL,   MINN. 
IN  TRIBUTE  OP  RESPECT 
AND  ADMIRATION 


331020 


PREFACE 

O  recall  to  the  many  who  value  Bulwer 
some  of  the  exquisite  and  noble  char- 
acters he  created  and  a  few  of  the 
truths  he  sought  to  enforce;  to  ac- 
quaint new  readers  with  the  purpose 
of  the  several  works  and  facilitate  the  just  ap- 
praisement of  their  merits;  and  to  record  one 
estimate  of  the  productions  of  an  author  who,  in 
accordance  with  precedent,  must  wait  a  couple  of 
centuries,  before  his  country  produces  a  critic 
capable  of  comprehending  his  power,  wisdom,  and 
mastery  of  art,  is  the  object  of  this  attempt  to 
explain  and  appreciate  the  achievements  of  a 
great  writer  in  the  realm  of  romance.  Another 
volume  will  deal  with  his  poems,  essays,  criticisms, 
and  speeches,  for  the  romances  are  but  half  of  his 
works. 

Because  of  the  vague  notions  prevalent  con- 
cerning literature,  poetry,  and  romance,  an  essay 
treating  of  these  precedes  the  articles  on  the 
romances  and  their  author. 

The  chapter  on  Bulwer  is  largely  derived  from 
the  writings  of  his  wife,  and  the  two  publications 


8  PREFACE 

of  her  executrix.  Material  for  a  more  detailed 
and  much  stronger  presentation  than  is  here  made 
exists  in  these  works,  of  which  a  further  exposition 
may  become  necessary. 

The  aim  of  this  volume  is  to  help  those  who  de- 
sire to  read  Bulwer  understandingly.  None  of  the 
papers  exhausts  its  subject,  but  if  the  reader  is 
stimulated  to  examine  and  discover  for  himself, 
the  purpose  of  the  work  will  have  been  accom- 
plished. 


CONTENTS 


Preface        

Literature  —  Poetry  —  Romance 

BULWER 

Bulwer's  Romances   . 


First  Period  : 
Falkland 
Pelham 
The  Disowned 
Devereux 
Paul  Clifford 
Asmodeus  at  Large 


Second  Period: 

Eugene  Aram 

godolphin    . 

Pilgrims  op  the  Rhine 

Last  Days  of  Pompeii 

Rienzi   . 

Leila     . 

Calderon 

Maltravers 
Short  Stories 

Third  Period  : 

Night  and  Morning 
Zanoni  . 


7 
13 
29 
61 


65 
67 
72 

77 
81 
87 

89 
95 
100 
104 
112 
120 
123 
124 
136 


141 
147 


10 


CONTENTS 


The  Last  op  the  Barons  . 

163 

LUCRETIA 

181 

Harold 

192 

Pausanias 

204 

Fourth  Period  : 

The  Caxtons 

209 

My  Novel 

219 

What  Will  He  Do  With  It!  . 

230 

Fifth  Period  : 

A  Strange  Story        .... 

238 

The  Coming  Race        .        . 

251 

Kenelm  Chillingly    .... 

271 

The  Parisians 

280 

Plays  and  Comedies  : 

Prerequisites  to  Great  Plays  . 

294 

Bulwer's  Connection  with  the  Stage 

302 

The  Acting  Play        .... 

310 

The  Duchess  de  la  Valliere      . 

314 

The  Lady  of  Lyons 

327 

Richelieu 

339 

The  Rightful  Heir    . 

357 

The  House  of  Darnley 

366 

Money 

372 

Not  So  Bad  As  We  Seem  . 

383 

Walpole 

394 

BULWER 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE 

LITERATURE  is  the  inclusive  term  for  the  several 
productions  of  those  artists  who  by  means  of 
words  and  symbols  used  appropriately,  either 
chronicle  and  record  observations,  discoveries,  facts, 
methods,  and  events ;  or  represent  characters,  moods,  feel- 
ings, emotions,  passions,  and  the  conflict  of  these.  Its 
service  to  mankind  is  analogous  to  that  which  memory 
performs  for  the  individual.  It  has  the  same  object  as 
all  art,  viz.,  that  of  increasing  man's  knowledge,  refining 
his  judgments,  and  developing  his  perceptions,  and  like 
other  arts  it  can  be  degraded  to  base  uses. 

Memory  retains  the  results  of  observations,  reflections, 
experiences,  and  communications.  Its  stores  are  in- 
creased, and  drawn  upon  as  aids,  in  two  distinct  exer- 
cises of  the  intellect. 

One  of  these  is  by  experiment,  measurement,  accumu- 
lation of  details,  qualities,  and  particulars,  and  a  step- 
by-step  progress  toward  certainty;  the  object  being  ex- 
actitude or  truth,  the  method  reasoning,  and  the  result 
science.  For  the  purpose  of  its  records,  its  use  of  words 
and  symbols  is  precise  and  even  technical.  Details  are 
exhaustively  considered,  and  only  after  careful  examina- 
tion of  many  particulars  are  deductions  arrived  at,  or 
generalizations  ventured  upon.  In  its  extreme  examples 
it  becomes  profound  and  abstruse,   as  in  pure  mathe- 


14  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

matics ;  and  affords  interest  and  benefit  only  to  the  few 
who  have  laboriously  mastered  the  branches  of  learning 
which  require  for  their  advancement  and  comprehension 
the  exercise  and  use  of  this  development  of  the  reasoning 
method.  In  proportion  as  a  work  is  rigorously  scientific, 
will  its  appeal  be  limited  to  scientists  only. 

The  other  way  of  employing  the  intellect  is  by  con- 
jecture, assumption,  and  apt  combinations;  discarding 
the  unnecessary,  simplifying  the  complex,  ignoring 
minor  details,  and  avoiding  the  actual.  Characters,  in- 
cidents, and  situations  are  not  copied  but  created,  or 
combined  into  new  wholes  from  parts  selected  because 
of  their  suitability.  It  does  not  imitate,  it  represents: 
it  does  not  argue  or  demonstrate,  it  declares  and  asserts ; 
it  does  not  measure,  it  compares;  it  disregards  the  local 
or  particular,  noticing  only  prominencies  or  general 
characteristics.  Its  aim  is  perfection,  of  which  beauty 
is  a  synonym,  its  method  the  imaginative,  and  its  results 
poetry.  In  its  representations  it  avoids  the  vulgar,  the 
harsh,  the  restricted,  and  the  commonplace,  preferring 
the  noble,  the  graceful,  and  the  grand.  Its  rarest 
achievements  have  little  contact  with  earth  or  humanity. 
They  revel  in  the  ethereal,  and  therefore  provide  en- 
joyment only  for  those  who  delight  in  the  mystic  and 
transcendental.  A  work  of  pure  poetry  will  be  esteemed 
by  poets  only. 

Neither  Science  nor  Poetry  restricts  itself  to  but  one  of 
these  methods.  Science  begins  with  imagining,  and  then 
by  reasoning  proceeds  to  substantiate  its  conjecture ;  but 
apart  from  this  commencement,  every  evidence  of  a  re- 
sort to  imagination  detracts  from  the  worth  of  the  dis- 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       15 

quisition  in  which  it  is  indulged.  And  poetry  would 
dissipate  its  energy  in  fantasy,  if  it  did  not  employ  rea- 
son in  guidance,  in  selecting  its  materials,  and  in  con- 
structing its  fabric;  but  if  the  use  of  the  methods  of 
reasoning  is  permitted  to  obtrude  in  poetry,  the  work  is 
to  that  extent  blemished. 

The  regions  which  are  severally  adventured  into  by 
the  intellect  in  reasoning  and  in  imagining,  and  the  dif- 
ferent procedures  necessary  in  each  instance,  parallel  the 
relations  borne  by  the  expanses  of  sea  and  land  to  phys- 
ical man,  and  his  varying  methods  of  traversing  them. 
Imagination,  like  the  mariner,  dares  into  a  realm  having 
more  of  the  vast,  the  wondrous,  and  the  mysterious ;  and 
as  the  explorations  of  navigators  have  increased  the 
bounds  of  the  known,  so  the  poets  have  enriched,  en- 
larged, and  beautified  all  intellectual  life. 

For  its  purposes  of  recording  and  representing.  Litera- 
ture combines  its  materials  into  two  fabrics:  verse,  the 
necessity  of  which  is  regularity,  wherein  the  syllabic 
construction  of  sentences  is  constrained  into  equivalence 
with  the  time-beats  measuring  the  succession  of  words 
and  pauses  composing  its  lines,  which  may  use  or  dis- 
pense with  recurring  rhymes,  and  resort  to  elisions  and 
inversions  when  necessary;  and  prose,  where  a  series  of 
words  is  broken  by  pauses  occurring  irregularly,  which 
uses  rhythm  but  avoids  rhyme.  Verse  aims  at  saying 
things  memorably  and  demands  close  attention;  prose 
strives  to  express  things  clearly  and  is  more  easilj^  com- 
prehended. 

Poetical  passages  may  occur  anywhere,  in  any  book, 
but  productions  which  are  poetry  are  the  results  of  the 


16  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

imaginative  exercise  of  the  intellect,  in  which  reason- 
ing has  been  used  in  guidance  and  restraint,  but  not  as 
a  contributive  factor.  Such  works  address  the  imagin- 
ation, and  arouse  emotion,  wonder,  and  aspiration,  and 
their  greatness  reflects  and  evidences  the  degree  to  which 
the  authors  have  developed  their  intellects  in  both  rea- 
soning and  imagining,  the  familiarity  with  man  and  his 
world  acquired  by  study  and  action;  and  the  range  of 
experience  and  observation  with  which  they  have  en- 
riched their  memories.  For  though  a  natural  aptitude 
may  be  desirable,  it  alone  is  not  sufficient.  There  is  no 
instance  of  lasting  greatness  in  poetry  having  been 
achieved  without  persistent  culture  and  accumulated 
knowledge.  The  poets  who  are  honored  through  the 
ages  have  been  as  remarkable  for  their  attainments  as 
for  their  productions. 

The  essentials  of  poetry  are :  first,  suggestiveness,  which 
provides  enduring  worth  and  abounding  interest,  and  is 
originated  in  creations,  new  revealings,  new  ideas,  or  new 
applications  and  aspects  of  old  ideas.  This  subtle  power 
may  be  compacted  into  a  phrase  or  a  line,  or  it  may 
pervade  an  entire  production,  gaining  accumulating  force 
as  the  work  proceeds.  Second,  evocation,  the  faculty  of 
calling  up  associated  ideas,  or  remembrances  of  similar 
scenes,  thoughts,  experiences,  or  feelings.  It  has  no 
connected  continuance,  but  detached  effects  are  produced 
by  a  sentence  or  series  of  sentences,  each  of  which  is  ex- 
panded by  the  witchery  of  the  stimulated  memory  into  a 
succession  of  similitudes  and  related  ideas,  and  the  lines 
which  possess  this  power  haunt  the  reader,  and  give 
charm  to  the  poem. 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       17 

The  term  poetry  is  often  incorrectly  applied  to  any 
composition  in  which  measured  lines  are  used.  The 
cause  of  this  general  misuse  of  the  word  is  partly  that 
song,  the  most  familiar  kind  of  poetry,  is  usually  in 
metre;  partly  that  verse  is  conducive  to  terseness,  one 
of  the  qualities  of  good  poetry.  But  an  elaborate  scien- 
tific treatise  has  been  written  in  verse,  and  much  prose 
is  poetry,  while  some  verse  is  mere  rhyming.  Not  the 
regularity  of  the  lines,  but  the  nature  of  the  matter,  is 
the  determining  factor. 

The  lyrical  quality  is  sometimes  assumed  to  be  the  dis- 
tinguishing attribute  of  poetry,  and  apparent  spontaneity 
is  regarded  as  of  more  importance  than  examples  sanc- 
tion, or  facts  confirm.  We  know  that  each  happy  col- 
location of  words  and  pleasing  ripple  of  syllables,  though 
seemingly  innocent  of  choice  or  change  or  labor,  is 
the  result  of  repeated  revisions  and  re-arrangements ;  and 
the  impetuous  flow  of  a  writer's  periods  is,  at  best,  but 
a  characteristic  of  style,  a  fluctuant  merit  in  the  presen- 
tation, rather  than  an  integral  element  of  the  work.  It 
is  a  narrow  and  perverse  view  which  regards  a  quality 
of  style  as  more  important  than  the  informing  principle 
of  the  production.  ' '  The  thought  is  the  Muse,  the  versi- 
fication but  her  dress."  If  the  poet  lacks  imaginative 
capacity,  no  fluency  in  his  lines  will  compensate  the  de- 
ficiency. Dr.  Pemberton  demonstrated  that  in  style 
Glover's  Leonidas  is  superior  to  Milton's  Paradise  Lost, 
but  despite  the  doctor's  proofs  Paradise  Lost  is  poetry, 
and  Leonidas  is  merely  verse. 

Pan  from  the  reed  produced  song,  and  it  is  consistent 
with  our  idea  of  the  half -god,  half-beast,  that  his  strains 


18  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

would  be  addressed  to  common  feelings,  and  that  spon- 
taneity would  be  an  essential  in  his  productions.  There- 
fore those  who  maintain  that  the  poet  is  one  obsessed  by 
some  overmastering  emotion,  feeling,  or  mood,  who  voices 
this  in  apparently  unpremeditated  song,  have  warrant 
for  their  belief. 

But  after  Pan  came  Apollo,  and  he  from  the  lyre  elicit- 
ed music  quite  other  than  that  given  forth  by  the  reed. 
To  enlighten,  to  dignify,  to  console,  and  to  warn,  are 
potentialities  inseparable  from  our  conception  of  godhood, 
and  these  qualities  necessarily  pertain  to  the  productions 
of  the  followers  of  * '  the  lord  of  the  unerring  bow. ' ' 

Though  the  simple  and  the  unpremeditated  have  for 
all  time  been  varieties  of  poetry,  they  are  neither  the  only 
nor  the  highest  kinds.  Such  songs  as  accompanied  the 
Bacchic  processions  had  their  origin  from  Pan.  These 
which  call  The  Nine  to  aid  in  artistically  condensing 
knowledge,  experience,  passion,  and  thought  into  noble 
form,  proceed  from  a  higher  source,  and  have  a  loftier 
importance.  Though  each  of  these  may  in  form  and  man- 
ner assume  the  appearance  of  the  other,  the  relative  im- 
portance of  the  intentional  and  the  spontaneous  is  as 
fixed  and  positive  as  that  of  the  god  amd  the  half -god. 

The  kinds  of  poetry  are  many,  but  that  which  deals 
most  directly  with  human  nature  has  always  been  re- 
garded as  of  the  greatest  importance.  The  Drama  and 
Epopee  have  ever  ranked  as  the  most  admirable  achieve- 
ments of  the  artist  in  words.  In  these,  character  is  dis- 
played, and  the  highest  potency  of  suggestion  is  attained 
when  by  depicting  the  crimes  and  ruin  of  evil  persons 
lessons  and  warnings  are  insinuated,  or  when  by  ex- 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       19 

amples  of  restrained  desire,  disciplined  emotion,  and 
worthy  aspiration,  embodied  in  noble  characters  who  by- 
patient  and  wise  conduct  overcome  the  temptation,  trials, 
and  untoward  happenings  which  beset  human  life,  emula- 
tion is  incited  and  magnanimity  promoted  in  many  whom 
axiom  or  exhortation  would  fail  to  impress, —  for  exam- 
ple, has  advantages  over  precept. 

The  ancient  classification  of  the  forms  of  poetry  ac- 
cording to  whether  they  were  recited  or  represented  has 
long  been  outgrown,  and  both  the  epic  and  the  drama 
have  in  modern  time  been  supplanted  in  popularity  and 
effectiveness  by  prose  fiction. 

Poetry,  whether  in  the  form  of  epic,  play,  or  romance, 
can  be  assigned  to  two  major  classes,  the  purpose  of  the 
work  determining  in  which  division  it  belongs.  If  its 
chief  aim  is  to  display  an  admirable  character  to  the  end 
that  emulation  may  be  aroused,  it  is  heroic.  If  it  depicts 
erring  or  evil  persons  and  its  intent  is  warning,  it  is 
tragic.  The  Odyssey  is  an  heroic  epic,  showing  a  wary 
and  patient  man  as  an  example  to  others.  The  Iliad  is  a 
tragic  epic,  setting  forth  the  fatal  effects  of  wrath.  The 
themes  of  plays  have  usually  been  chosen  for  tragic  pur- 
poses, but  Henry  V  is  an  heroic  presentation ;  and  in  the 
patriotic  prince  who  refrains  from  involving  Denmark  in 
his  meditated  vengeance,  an  heroic  aspect  is  given  to  the 
character  of  Hamlet. 

Comedy  aims  only  at  the  amending  of  manners  or  con- 
duct, making  use  of  banter  and  ridicule  to  effect  its  pur- 
pose. Its  characters  are  necessarily  less  fine  and  noble 
than  those  of  the  play,  and  its  examples  constitute  a 
minor  class.     Those  productions  which  are  ' '  not  intended 


20  PROSE  ROIVIANCES  OF  BULWER 

for  the  stage"  may  fitly  be  distinguished  as  dramas. 

As  the  older  forms  of  epic  and  play  have  continued  to 
lose  attraction  for  both  poets  and  audiences,  prose  fiction 
has  increased  in  favor,  enlarged  its  domain,  appropriated 
the  effects  of  its  elders,  and  assumed  their  mission.  The 
names  romance  and  novel  are  now  applied  without  dis- 
crimination, for  the  original  distinctions  have  become  ob- 
solete. To  these  works  in  which  the  imaginative  method 
has  been  followed,  where  heroic  or  tragic  purpose  is  evi- 
dent in  the  design,  where  the  characters  and  incidents  are 
creations  or  idealizations,  and  the  reflections  in  force  and 
appropriateness  approximate  to  those  occurring  in  the 
epic  or  the  play,  the  term  Romance  may  advantageously 
be  restricted;  reserving  the  designation  ''Novel"  for 
works  which  copy  or  transcribe  from  actualities  and  deal 
with  the  commonplace  or  the  transient,  and  thereby  ex- 
ploit the  field  of  the  journalist. 

Epic,  play,  and  romance  share  the  same  province  — 
man's  actions  and  emotions  influenced  in  their  progres- 
sion and  succession  by  passion,  situation,  and  conflicting 
purposes.  They  depict  these  by  means  of  the  figures 
through  which  the  poet  translates  into  such  apprehensible 
representation  as  his  craftsmanship  enables  him  to  com- 
mand, the  images  and  ideas  first  called  into  being  in  his 
mind,  and  then  cogitated  until  they  assume  fitting  form 
on  his  page. 

The  epic  recites  the  successive  incidents  pertaining  to  a 
greaf^eVenl^  not  pausing  to  explain  or  account  for  the 
checks  and  hindrances  which  retard,  or  the  happy  acci- 
dents which  facilitate  the  consummation,  but  rapidly  re- 
lating the  occurrences,  displaying  the  personages  in 
speech  and  deed,  and  avoiding  all  digressions. 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       21 

The  play  concerns  itself  with  how  and  why  the  repre- 
sented happenings  came  about,  exhibits  conduct  under  the 
stress  of  contending  passions,  and  accounts  for  the  ac- 
tions of  its  characters,  whose  minds  and  purposes  are  its 
chief  interest,  their  physical  qualities  being  borrowed 
from  the  actors.  Its  events  are  severely  concentrated, 
and  each  incident  is  made  to  advance  the  action  toward  a 
situation  which  combines,  in  one  culmination,  the  crisis 
of  the  passion  and  the  development  of  the  character. 

The  romance  originally  confined  itself  to  recounting  the 
exploits  of  some  much-doing  individual,  and  consisted  of 
a  series  of  adventures  loosely  joined  together,  without  any 
semblance  of  arranged  plot.  But  there  is  little  now  that 
the  play  accomplishes  w^hich  the  romance  does  not  suc- 
cessfully attempt.  It  differs,  however,  in  being  much 
longer,  and  therefore  less  rapid,  sustained,  and  progres- 
sive in  its  action ;  in  being  addressed  to  the  one,  instead 
of  the  many,  which  necessitates  restraints,  and  greater 
particularization ;  and  in  requiring  more  description,  for 
the  romancist  must  explain  and  depict  all  that  the  play- 
wright depends  upon  the  actor  and  his  accessories  to  fur- 
nish. But  though  greater  latitude  is  allowed  in  these 
particulars,  in  each  there  is  peril  in  excess.  Description 
may  easily  assume  too  great  a  proportion ;  and  unneces- 
sary and  episodical  incidents  which  have  no  bearing  upon 
the  purpose,  or  didactic  disquisitions  in  the  guise  of  con- 
versations which  neither  elucidate  the  motives  of  the  char- 
a£itfir_s_nor  affect  the  action  except  to  delay  it,  may  un- 
duly prolong  the  work,  to  its  injury. 

Description  of  inanimate  objects  is  the  lowest  form  of 
poetry,  and  great  writers  make  very  sparing  use  of  it. 
They  describe  the  emotions  a  scene  excites,  or  the  mood 


22  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

it  awakens,  and  if  it  is  connected  with  some  important 
event  they  briefly  summarise  the  conspicuous  features  so 
as  to  fix  it  in  the  memory  of  the  reader.  But  they  do 
n»t  indulge  in  protracted  description,  because  canvas  and 
pigments  are  the  proper  means  by  which  the  impression 
of  many  objects  seen  simultaneously  is  best  conveyed. 
Words  can  only  represent  the  several  details  of  a  scene 
as  a  succession  of  items,  rarely  distinct  and  never  in  due 
proportion;  and  no  matter  how  cleverly  the  poet  may 
simulate  in  words  the  picture  of  the  artist,  the  perform- 
ance will  be  inadequate,  disproportionate,  and  probably 
false,  as  compared  to  the  result  produced  by  the  use  of 
the  appropriate  medium. 

The  interest  of  a  romance  is  derived  from  the  combined 
A  qualities  of  its  construction,  its  characters,  its  incidents, 
/  the  knowledge  it  evidences,  and  the  degree  of  that  mastery 
/^l.    of  technical  methods  called  style  which  it  displays. 

In  construction,  plot  is  an  advantage.  Many  works 
achieve  popularity  solely  because  of  the  skill  and  in- 
genuity with  which  they  have  been  planned,  and  though 
estimable  productions  have  been  written  without  a  pre- 
meditated design,  the  lack  of  it  impairs  their  interest. 
Plot  gives  backbone  to  the  sequence  of  incidents  which 
provides  variety  and  affords  occasion  for  developing  char- 
acter and  carrying  to  completion  the  purpose  of  the  work. 
The  symmetrical  relation  of  the  parts  to  the  whole,  of  de- 
tails to  the  general  effect ;  the  due  proportionment  of  in- 
cident, colloquy,  and  the  recital  which  sacrificing  the  vi- 
vacity of  dialogue  gains  in  the  clearness  and  despatch 
with  which  it  conveys  to  the  reader  matters  it  is  essential 
he  should  know ;  these  require  consideration  and  thought, 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       23 

and  are  facilitated  when  plot  is  part  of  the  construction. 

Characters  are  of  greater  importance  than  the  story 
they  take  part  in.  The  works  which  continue  in  peren- 
nial favor,  age  after  age,  owe  their  immortality  to  the 
personages  they  display  and  depict,  and  even  lyrical 
poems  are  regarded  with  greater  interest  when  it  is 
discovered  that  they  reveal  the  singer's  self,  express 
his  joys  and  sorrows,  and  shadow  forth  his  own  per- 
sonality. 

The  enduring  characters  in  poetry  are  not  transcrip- 
tions from  actual  individuals,  but  large  generalizations 
of  powers  and  qualities,  transcending  in  capacity,  ut- 
terance, and  experiences  the  human  beings  with  whom 
we  come  in  contact,  but  conforming  in  conduct  and  re- 
sponsibility to  what  we  recognise  as  human  conditions. 
They  are  possible  to  humanity,  but  not  common  to  man- 
kind. We  acknowledge  the  reality  of  Achilles,  Ulysses, 
Nestor,  CEdypus,  Hamlet,  Lear,  Macbeth,  Don  Quixote, 
but  none  ever  saw  their  originals. 

The  highest  order  of  peraonages  in  poetry  are  the  cre- 
ations which  surpass  humanity  in  their  qualities  and  en- 
dowments, but  are  conceivable  and  assented  to  because 
they  act  in  consistence  with  the  conditions  in  which 
they  are  placed ;  the  author 's  page  being  their  world. 
Prometheus,  Satan,  Mephistopheles,  are  such  characters. 
The  epithets  "beautiful"  and  ''perfect"  are  applied  to 
objects  which  manifest  superiority  over  others  of  a  like 
kind;  but  when  a  force,  or  deed,  or  object  is  grand 
or  admirable  in  such  degree  that  comparison  with  any- 
thing else  is  impossible,  it  can  only  be  described  as  sub- 
lime.   These  creations  are  of  that  order. 


24  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Fictional  characters  are  appreciable  precisely  as  are 
those  met  with  in  ordinary  life.  The  merely  physically 
excellent  are  inferior  to  the  cultivated,  the  intellectually 
notable  are  above  the  prominent,  and  the  supremely 
wise,  and  good,  and  great,  are  superior  to  all  others. 

Revealing  and  unfolding  character  is  preferable  to 
describing  it.  It  is  a  greater  achievement  to  display 
persons  in  action  —  striving,  endeavoring,  and  battling 
with  foes  or  circumstances,  and  evincing  a  variety  of 
capacities  and  potentialities  —  than  passivelj^  submitting 
and  enduring,  but  giving  no  evidence  of  active  power. 

And  always  knowledge  of  the  inner  man  is  of  greater 
importance  than  dress  or  bearing,  and  moral  struggles 
and  mental  perplexities  than  physical  conflict  or  per- 
sonal prowess. 

When  characters  are  introduced  in  whom  real  in- 
dividuals are  recognised,  whose  oddities  or  mannerisms 
have  been  copied,  or  when  persons  whose  actions  and 
conversation  are  commonplace  and  trivial  are  given  im- 
portance, poetry  has  been  forsaken  and  another  prov- 
ince of  literature  entered. 

It  is  the  function  and  necessity  of  the  journalist, 
whose  field  is  the  actual,  to  deal  with  transient  aspects 
of  ordinary  life  and  to  describe  literally  and  in  detail 
the  affectations  and  peculiarities  of  living  persons;  for 
journalism  ministers  to  the  interests,  habits,  opinions, 
and  sentiments  of  the  entire  community,  only  a  portion 
of  which  is  cultured.  It  aims  at  immediate  and  rapid 
effect,  and  seeks  to  bring  about  the  persuasion  of  today, 
rather  than  the  conviction  of  future  years.  When  the 
romancist  chooses  to  delineate  the  actual,  his  work  be- 
comes journalism. 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       25 

Incidents  should  be  pertinent  to  the  design,  illustra- 
tive of  some  significant  condition  or  characteristic,  suc- 
ceed each,  other  naturally,  have  a  definite  bearing  upon 
the  result,  and  vary  both  in  manner  and  subject. 

And  they  should  avoid  the  actual,  especially  when 
dealing  with  crime,  or  irregular  and  mischievous  in- 
dulgencies,  for  there  is  in  some  people  who  may  be 
readers  a  singular  propensity  to  imitate  vicious  actions. 
All  extraordinary  crimes  become  epidemic  immediately 
after  the  publication  of  details  concerning  them.  There- 
fore depictions  of  wrong-doing  should  be  surrounded 
with  such  circumstances  as  to  make  actual  application  of 
the  described  method  extremely  difficult.  And  in  cer- 
tain injudicious  relations  and  incidents  there  are  possi- 
bilities of  evil,  even  when  the  completed  purpose  is  ad- 
mirable, for  many  who  never  perceive  the  moral  intent 
of  a  book  may  be  excited  and  harmed  by  its  incidental 
scenes. 

The  comprehensive  knowledge  of  a  writer  is  rarely 
obtruded.  It  irradiates  his  every  page;  enriches  his 
characterizations  and  themes  with  illuminating  observa- 
tions and  revealings  of  human  nature  and  mjotivesl; 
gives  fullness  and  power  to  the  exposition  by  which 
complicated  phenomena  are  made  understandable;  and 
imperceptibly  enlarges  the  views  and  stimulates  tha 
faculties  of  the  reader.  Apt  references,  shrewd  com- 
parisons, illustrations,  similes,  and  metaphors  all  evi- 
dence the  attainments  of  an  author,  but  the  characteris- 
tic manifestations  of  vast  knowledge  are  the  large  toler- 
ation which  its  possessors  develop,  and  the  conciliatory 
attitude  they  adopt  toward  movements,  measures,  and 
men. 


26  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Style  fluctuates  and  changes  like  the  fashions  in  dress. 
Ever  and  again  words  and  collocations,  after  a  period 
of  over-use,  are  supplanted  by  newer  phrasing,  and  poets 
whose  styles  were  a  part  of  their  attraction  to  contempo- 
raries appear  old-fashioned  to  more  modern  readers.  But 
if  their  works  possessed  other  qualities,  these  eventually 
assert  themselves  and  are  recognized,  and  then  the  un- 
e^apable  mannerisms  of  a  former  day  are  again  re- 
garded with  favor,  and  influence  a  newer  generation  of 
writers. 

To  express  his  thoughts  with  such  clearness  that  he 
is  easily  understood,  to  arrange  his  sentences  so  that 
they  flow  lucidly  and  orderly,  and  to  cultivate  terseness 
as  a  habit,  are  the  necessities  rather  than  the  accomplish- 
ments of  an  author.  Additional  graces  of  diction,  ca- 
denccj  and  arrangement  may  be  added  with  advantage, 
but  clearness,  smoothness,  and  strength  are  imperative 
needs,  beyond  the  attainment  of  which  it  is  chiefly  de- 
sirable that  vices  of  style  and  composition  be  avoided,  as 
for  instance  pomposity,  heaviness,  redundancy  of  imag- 
ery or  epithets,  over-elaboration  of  minor  ideas  to  the 
obscuration  of  the  major  one,  and  those  verbal  pretti- 
nesses  which  are  quoted  as  ' '  purple  patches. ' ' 

The  poet  addresses  the  best,  and  highest,  and  noblest. 
His  audience  is  the  cultivated  minority  of  all  time,  and 
his  concern  is  the  wide  applicability  of  his  ideas,  views, 
and  creations;  the  quality  —  not  the  quantity  —  of  the 
effect  he  produces ;  its  permanence,  not  the  rapidity  with 
which  it  is  attained.  Whatever  would  limit  that  au- 
dience must  be  avoided,  therefore  his  personages  should 
be  representatives  of  large  classes  of  humanity,  his  pas- 
sions such  as  all  humanity  can  S3anpathise  with.     His 


LITERATURE  —  POETRY  —  ROMANCE       27 

scenes  should  have  their  salient  features  described  but 
not  inventoried,  and  his  language  —  eschewing  patois 
and  dialect  —  should  be  pure,  and  attractive  to  the  edu- 
cated. 

It  is  the  fate  of  all  works  of  imagination  to  be  reviewed 
by  journalists  and  appraised  as  journalism;  w^hich  is 
as  inadequate  as  judging  a  ship  and  a  sleigh  by  the 
same  rules.  The  presentation  of  one  aspect  of  a  book, 
accurate  and  useful  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  all  that  is  possible 
under  these  circumstances,  and  this  is  accomplished 
worthily  by  many  newspapers.  In  more  pretentious 
publications  the  results  are  usually  less  satisfactory ;  the 
views  are  still  those  of  the  journalist.  Method  is  pre- 
ferred to  insight,  fidelity  in  details  to  comprehensive 
perception,  literal  exactness  to  creative  originality,  and 
style  to  design;  and  there  is  often  the  added  offense 
that  the  reviewer  assumes  superiority  and  affects  con- 
descension in  noticing  the  work  he  writes  about. 

The  reviewer  ^s  relation  to  literature  is  similar  to  that 
of  the  lawyer  to  justice,  with  this  important  difference: 
that  the  lawyer  argues  his  case  before  a  judge,  who  curbs 
irrelevant  or  abusive  impertinence,  and  usually  decides 
in  accordance  with  testimony  and  fixed  law.  The  lawyer 
may  be  intent  on  defeating  justice.  He  may  be  a 
theorist,  a  bigot,  an  enemy's  agent.  The  reviewer  may 
have  analagous  disqualifications.  But  in  the  one  in- 
stance there  is  a  check  upon  viciousness,  in  the  other 
nothing  interferes  with  the  publication  of  aught  that 
malice  may  inspire  or  ignorance  engender. 

Canons  of  criticism,  like  the  laws  of  nature,  are  often 
appealed  to,  but  nowhere  authoritatively  recorded. 

The  aforegoing  remarks  are  deductions  from  Bulwer's 


28  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

suggestions  and  arguments,  and  explain  the  principles  on 
which  his  works  were  composed,  and  these  principles 
are  conformed  to  by  the  great  productions  of  every 
famous  writer  from  Homer  to  Goethe. 


BULWER 

EDWARD  GEORGE  EARLE  LYTTON  BULWER, 
the  youngest  son  of  General  Earle  Bulwer,  was 
born  in  London  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  May, 
1803.  The  General  died  in  1807,  and  the  education  and 
care  of  three  sons  devolved  upon  his  widow,  the  care- 
ful, cultured,  and  religious  heiress  of  the  Lyttons  of 
Kneb  worth. 

The  future  author  was  familiarised  with  books  in  his 
childhood,  for  he  had  the  run  of  a  huge  miscellaneous 
library  collected  by  his  maternal  grandfather,  and  found 
something  interesting  in  various  departments  of  it.  He 
was  precocious,  wrote  verses  at  a  very  early  age,  and 
corresponded  with  Doctor  Parr  and  other  notabilities 
while  yet  a  boy.  After  a  succession  of  private  schools, 
where  his  oddities  and  quick  temper  made  him  popular 
with  all  but  intimate  with  few,  he  was  sent  to  Cambridge 
University,  and  achieved  distinction  as  a  speaker  at 
the  Union,  won  the  Chancellor's  medal  for  a  poem  on 
Sculpture,  and  was  attracted  to  and  acquired  much 
knowledge  of  English  history  and  old  literature. 

The  frequently  repeated  legend  of  a  maniac  having 
seized  him  from  his  nurse's  arms  and  pythonised  of  his 
future  greatness,  the  comparative  decay  of  his  family, 
the  grief  caused  by  an  unfortunate  early  attachment, 
and  a  consciousness  of  powers  in  himself,  combined  to 


30  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

inspire  him  with  the  determination  to  exalt  his  name 
and  house  to  something  of  its  former  splendor;  and 
combining  the  active  life  with  the  studious,  he  read  and 
wrote  methodically,  and  travelled  on  foot  over  Britain 
and  on  horseback  through  France,  everywhere  noting, 
observing,  and  remembering,  and  laying  the  foundations 
of  that  knowledge  and  experience  which  informs  his 
books. 

He  had  some  intention  of  joining  the  army,  and  took 
the  initial  step  of  purchasing  a  commission.  The  im- 
probability of  any  early  opportunity  for  active  service 
deterred  him  from  proceeding  farther.  Meeting  Miss 
Wheeler,  who  two  years  later  became  his  wife,  caused 
the  abandonment  of  the  purposed  military  career,  and 
necessitated  some  more  immediately  available  source  of 
livelihood.  He  decided  to  join  authorship  with  parlia- 
mentary life,  regarding  the  former  vocation  as  the  most 
difficult,  and  the  latter  that  for  which  he  was  best  fitted. 

Falkland  was  written  in  1826,  and  Pelham  in  the 
following  year ;  and  on  August  28,  1827,  he  made  prob- 
ably the  most  calamitous  and  ill-resulting  marriage  ever 
consummated.  Against  the  advice  of  friends  and  the 
warning  of  his  mother,  he  united  himself  to  an  Irish 
beauty,  and  life-long  vexations  and  worries  were  the 
least  of  the  evil  consequences. 

He  was  then  in  his  twenty-fifth  year,  five  feet  nine 
inches  in  height,  with  very  small  feet,  and  an  extremely 
slender  frame.  His  visage  was  long.  He  had  an  im- 
mense aquiline  nose,  blue  eyes,  high  retreating  fore- 
head, and  curling  golden  hair.  Grillparzar  called  him 
wonderfully   goodlooking    (wunderhuebsch).     Less   im- 


BULWER  31 

partial  people  described  him  as  distinguished  in  appear- 
ance. He  was  unaffected,  frank  and  fascinating  in  con- 
versation, but  exuberantly  restless  and  uncomfortable 
when  inactive;  hot  tempered,  proud,  shy,  unduly  sensi- 
tive, with  supreme  confidence  in  his  own  power  and  en- 
durance, but  with  a  distrust  of  his  luck,  and  a  tendency 
towards  superstition.  He  was  utterly  fearless  of  every- 
thing save  wasps,  of  which  he  had  a  constitutional  dread. 
Though  easily  led  or  induced,  it  was  impossible  to  drive 
or  coerce  him.  He  was  a  trained  boxer,  skilled  in  sword- 
play,  and  an  expert  pistol-shooter.  Sport  had  ^o  at- 
traction for  him,  but  he  liked  card  games,  especially 
whist,  was  fond  of  fishing  and  of  dogs,  horses,  birds,  and 
perfumes,  and  he  smoked  tobacco  almost  incessantly. 
Intense  despondency  and  dejection  were  frequent  condi- 
tions with  him,  and  from  childhood  he  suffered  from  at- 
tacks of  earache,  which,  increasing  in  severity  as  the 
years  passed,  brought  on  deafness  in  middle  life,  and 
ultimately  caused  his  death. 

At  the  time  of  her  first  meeting  with  Bulwer  in  De- 
cember, 1825,  Rosina  Wheeler  —  the  daughter  of  an« 
Irish  squire  who  had  dissipated  his  fortune,  and  a  mother 
of  materialistic  views,  who  left  her  husband  and  became 
one  of  the  household  of  her  uncle.  Sir  John  Doyle  — 
was  a  self-possessed  woman  of  twenty-three,  and  had 
gone  about  in  London  for  some  years.  She  was  extra- 
ordinarily beautiful,  well  informed,  and  brilliantly  witty, 
but  vain,  extravagant,  and  impulsive,  devoid  of  prudence 
or  judgment,  with  an  exalted  opinion  of  her  own  abilities, 
qualities,  and  position;  she  possessed  much  imperious- 
ness,  and  had  little  consideration  for  others. 


32  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

They  met  at  a  literary  gathering.  He  was  captivated, 
and  she  accepted  the  attentions  of  this  favorite  son  of 
a  rich  widow,  who  disapproved  of  her  as  a  prospective 
daughter-in-law.  According  to  her  own  account,  she 
had  neither  affection  nor  esteem  for  him,  nor  anything 
but  dislike  for  any  member  of  his  family.  But  at  the 
cost  of  an  estrangement  between  mother  and  son,  and 
the  consequent  sacrifice  of  the  allowance  hitherto  made 
him,  they  married  and  began  housekeeping  in  accord- 
ance with  his  station,  but  in  unwise  disproportion  to 
their  means,  and  to  provide  for  their  maintenance  he 
adopted  literature  as  a  profession. 

For  the  next  nine  years  Bulwer's  life  was  one  of  un- 
ceasing literary  drudgery,  with  the  added  labors  of  an 
active  member  of  parliament  after  May  1,  1831,  when 
he  was  elected  for  St.  Ives  in  the  last  unreformed  house 
of  commons.  During  this  period  he  published  twelve 
romances ;  a  history  of  Athens ;  a  disquisition  on  England 
and  the  English ;  the  essays  collected  in  The  Student ;  a 
political  pamphlet  on  The  Crisis;  The  Duchcsse  de  la 
Valliere,  a  play;  a  volume  of  poems;  and  concurrently 
contributed  largely  to  the  Edinburgh  Review,  the  West- 
minster Review,  the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  the  Ex- 
aminer, and  other  journals,  wherein  many  of  his  articles 
remain  interred;  and  other  works  were  written  but  not 
published. 

The  intense  application  necessitated  by  the  composition 
of  works  so  many  and  various  would  have  tasked  the 
strongest  of  constitutions,  under  the  most  favorable  cir- 
cumstances. Bulwer's  health  never  was  robust.  His 
home-life  was  made  miserable  by  what  his  wife  called 


BULWER  33 

her  "irritability  of  temper  and  easily  wounded  feel- 
ings ' ' ;  and  he  was  assailed  and  abused  outrageously  in 
periodicals  and  journals. 

The  insolence  and  personalities  indulged  in  by  con- 
tributors to  the  press  at  the  outset  enraged  one  who  saw 
no  reason  for  disregarding  expressions  which  in  other 
departments  of  public  life  would  necessitate  a  hostile 
meeting,  for  these  were  the  days  of  duels.  Most  of  the 
abusive  writers  were  of  a  sort  that  recognition  \vould 
have  dignified,  but  one  —  Scott 's  son-in-law  —  was  of 
better  station  than  those  he  abetted,  and  his  remarks 
were  conspicuously  mean  and  unfair.  Upon  him  Bulwer 
retaliated  in  ''A  Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  Quarterly 
Review,"  which  with  any  but  one  other  man  in  Britain 
would  have  provoked  a  challenge.  But  iLockhart  real- 
ised that  he  had  aroused  a  dangerous  antagonist,  and 
prudently  made  no  sign.  His  attacks  from  this  time 
forward  were  published  in  Fraser^s  Magazine,  where  the 
responsibility  was  assumed  by  Maginn;  and  Bulwer  be- 
came disdainful  of  the  criticism  of  the  day  as  he  learned 
more  about  its  instruments  and  its  motives. 

Much  of  the  journalistic  hostility  had  its  origin  in  a 
misapprehension  of  his  circumstances,  which  he  was  too 
proud  and  masculine  to  attempt  to  remove.  His  con- 
temporaries erroneously  regarded  him  as  wealthy  by  in- 
heritance, and  resented  what  they  considered  an  unfair 
competition. 

And  adopting  literature  as  a  profession,  he  declined  to 
conform  to  the  slovenly  and  intemperate  usages  of  most 
of  its  followers.  He  dressed  in  accordance  with  his 
station  and  after  the  manner  of  his  class,  and  this  con- 


34  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

trasting  the  customary  negligence  of  journalists,  gave 
occasion  for  many  references  to  his  clothing  and  the 
application  of  the  terms  fop,  exquisite,  dandy.  It  was 
quite  natural  for  the  untidy  and  equivocal  to  rail  at  the 
man  of  gentle  birth  who  conformed  instinctively  with 
the  customs  of  his  kind  —  customs  of  which  they  had  no 
knowledge  save  by  observation  from  afar. 

Labor  and  worry  and  vexations  embittered  and  irri- 
tated the  temper  of  the  overworked  author.  The  com- 
plainings and  caprices  of  his  wife  were  added  torments, 
and  under  the  strain  he  became  ill.  Travel  and  changes 
of  residence  were  resorted  to  with  no  benefit  to  either 
health  or  household  peace,  and  the  domestic  infelicity 
became  so  intolerable  that  from  1834,  after  their  return 
from  a  visit  to  Italy,  Bulwer  and  his  wife  lived  apart, 
she  and  the  two  children  at  their  home,  to  which  he  paid 
brief  visits,  he  in  chambers  at  the  Albany ;  and  they  were 
corresponding  with  a  view  to  effecting  a  separation. 

In  1836,  in  reply  to  her  representations,  he  wrote  his 
wife  that  not  desiring  to  occasion  her  the  anguish  she 
seemed  to  feel  at  their  parting,  they  would  forget  the 
object  of  their  late  correspondence  and  try  living  to- 
gether once  more.  If  the  experiment  was  to  succeed,  he 
entreated  her  to  have  some  indulgence  for  his  habits 
and  pursuits;  not  to  complain  so  often  of  being  a  pris- 
oner and  dull  and  so  forth ;  and  not  to  think  it  encum- 
bent upon  her  to  say  or  insinuate  everything  that  could 
gall  or  mortify  him,  by  way  of  showing  she  did  not  con- 
descend to  flatter. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  his  joining  her  again,  he 
sent  word  that  he  was  too  ill  to  come.     She  drove  to  the 


BULWEE  35 

Albany.  His  servant  was  out,  and  her  knocking  being 
continuous  he  went  to  the  door  and  admitted  her.  See- 
ing two  teacups  on  his  tray,  she  made  a  scene  and  then 
returned  home,  and  as  a  consequence  he  wrote  her  that 
on  no  consideration  would  he  live  with  her  again,  that 
''her  last  proceedings  towards  him  —  indecorous,  un- 
womanly and  thoroughly  unprovoked  and  groundless  — 
were  nothing  in  themselves  compared  with  what  he  had 
borne  for  years,  but  they  were  the  last  drop  and  the  cup 
overflowed.  Looking  on  one  side  to  all  the  circum- 
st-ances  of  their  marriage,  to  all  the  sacrifices  he  then 
made,  to  all  the  indulgence  he  had  since  shown  her,  to 
the  foolish  weakness  with  which,  when  insufferably  pro- 
voked, he  had  time  after  time  yielded  to  promises  of 
•amendment  never  fulfilled;  and  looking  on  the  other 
side  to  her  repeated  affronts  and  insults  —  some  private, 
some  public;  her  habitual  contempt  of  the  respect  due 
to  him,  her  violent  language,  uncertain  caprices,  her 
own  journal  (a  fair  transcript  of  her  thoughts)  corre- 
spondent with  her  letters  and  words,  and  filled  wdth  the 
most  injurious  aspersions  of  him  and  his  —  his  relations, 
who  ought  to  be  as  sacred  to  her  as  to  him,  the  eternal 
subject  of  gross,  dishonoring  vituperation,  —  all  this 
placed  on  her  side  of  the  balance  left  nothing  in  his  mind 
but  such  deep  and  permanent  impressions  of  the  past  as 
to  enforce  this  calm  and  stern  determination  as  to  the 
future." 

The  resulting  deed  of  separation,  dated  April  19, 1836, 
provided  for  the  payment  of  four  hundred  pounds  year- 
ly for  herself,  with  one  hundred  for  the  children  so  long 
as  they  remained  in  her  care.     She  had  announced  that 


36  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

were  her  ''poor  little  unhappy  children  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, she  would  not  under  any  persuasion  take  more  than 
two  hundred  pounds  a  year  from  him.  As  it  was,  she 
begged  explicitly  to  state  that  no  illness,  no  want,  no  pri- 
vation, should  ever  induce  her  to  accept  one  farthing 
from  him  beyond  the  stipulated  five  hundred  pounds  — 
if  she  lived  she  could  make  more/* 

In  June  she  quitted  Berrymead,  taking  whatever  of 
its  contents  she  desired,  and  removed  to  Ireland  to  the 
home  of  her  friend.  Miss  Greene,  who  had  forthwith  to 
assume  all  care  of  the  children,  for  the  mother  visited 
at  country  houses,  often  for  two  weeks  at  a  time.  As  a 
consequence  Miss  Greene  became  greatly  attached  to 
both  boy  and  girl  and  they  to  her,  and  this  incensed  the 
mother,  who  resolved  to  remove  with  them  to  Bath. 

Bulwer  had  reason  to  dislike  Miss  Greene,  but  he  was 
aware  of  her  devotion  to  his  children,  and  he  decided 
they  should  remain  in  her  charge.  This  gave  his  wife 
an  opportunity  to  appeal  to  the  courts,  but  she  declined 
to  avail  herself  of  it,  and  her  new  Bath  friends  proved 
to  be  plunderers  and  involved  her  in  debt.  Then  she 
wrote  a  novel,  Cheverleyy  in  which,  thinly  disguised,  her 
liusband  and  his  family  are  held  up  to  execration.  The 
book  was  successful,  and  others  followed,  in  all  of  which 
odious  charges  are  insinuated,  always  in  the  guise  of 
fiction. 

Assisted  by  the  nameless  and  the  vile,  and  by  some 
who  were  neither,  Bulwer 's  wife  pursued  this  poUcy  of 
indirect  aspersion  for  years,  and  by  such  expedients  as 
reporting  that  influential  reviewers  had  asked  her  if  one 
of  the  characters  in  her  novel  was  really  meant  for  her 


BULWER  37 

husband,  she  contrived  to  direct  her  readers  to  see  in 
the  evil  things  depicted  and  described,  vicious  and  dis- 
creditable acts  perpetrated  by  him.  These  reiterated  in- 
sinuations never  took  the  shape  of  direct  charges;  noth- 
ing was  advanced  in  confirmation  or  support  of  them. 
She  asserted  that  he  was  constantly  under  her  gaze,  that 
she  had  letters  in  her  possession  which  proved  that  he 
persecuted  her,  but  she  evaded  all  responsibility  or  in- 
vestigation by  guardedly-  avoiding  any  positive  accusa- 
tion, and  though  the  courts  were  open  to  her,  she  pre- 
ferred another  line  of  action. 

The  wisdom  of  ignoring  slander  and  abuse  is  generally 
admitted,  but  that  course  does  not  secure  immunity  from 
its  effects.  Here  is  an  instance  where  neither  notice  nor 
reply  was  vouchsafed  to  unjustifiable  attacks  persisted 
in  for  more  than  twenty  years.  Every  act  of  Bulwer^s 
life  contradicted  the  accusations,  and  he  scorned  even  to 
refer  to  them.  Those  who  knew  him  condemned  the  in- 
sulting innuendoes.  No  reputable  newspaper  or  maga- 
zine paid  attention  to  the  malicious  publications,  and 
the  libeller  suffered  and  lost  friends.  But  many  per- 
sons became  acquainted  with  the  uncontradicted  calum- 
nies, and  assumed  that  attitude  of  spurious  impartiality 
which  makes  an  equal  distribution  of  blame,  on  the  gen- 
eral ground  that  in  no  case  can  right  be  entirely  on  one 
side.  Others,  from  a  perverted  feeling  of  chivalry,  es- 
poused the  vilifier's  cause;  and  some  gave  eager  cre- 
dence, and  accepted  the  misrepresentations  as  verities. 

Mrs.  Bulwer  was  resourceful  and  shrewd.  In  deal- 
ing with  publishers,  she  pointed  out  that  her  books  were 
*  *  a  very  good  speculation,  as  the  name  alone  sells  them. ' ' 


38  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

The  firm  of  Whittaker  and  Company,  announced  as  the 
publishers  of  one  novel  printed  at  Taunton,  promptly 
denied  all  connection  with  it ;  whereupon  she  propounded 
the  plan  of  advertising  that  ' '  from  the  very  disgraceful 
means  that  have  been  taken  to  suppress  Very  Success- 
ful the  remaining  copies  are  selling  at  three  pounds  a 
copy.'* 

Her  books  were  productive  of  revenue.  For  the  first, 
-second,  and  third,  she  received  fifteen  hundred  pounds; 
but  apart  from  great  vituperative  eloquence  and  sarcasm 
they  possessed  little  merit,  and  became  monotonous,  so 
that  each  succeeding  novel  had  a  less  sale  than  its  prede- 
cessor. 

The  attacks  upon  her  husband  may  have  been  the  re- 
sult of  hallucination,  but  it  is  more  probable  they  were 
deliberate  concoctions  for  a  definite  purpose.  Her  ex- 
travagances really  show  that  she  was  inordinately  in 
love  wdth  Bulwer  notwithstanding  her  protestations  to 
the  contrary.  No  one  exercises  thought,  tongue,  and 
pen  perpetually  upon  an  object  he  despises;  and  her 
immitigable  jealousy,  her  inability  to  put  him  out  of  her 
mind,  her  avoidance  of  the  obvious  remedy  for  her  as- 
serted wrongs,  her  rejection  of  the  advances  of  men  who 
were  attracted  to  her  as  friends  and  would  fain  have 
been  more — -all  evidence  the  enduring  strength  of  her 
passion,  just  as  her  dislike  for  everyone  to  whom  he  was 
attached  proves  the  unreasonableness  and  exacting  na- 
ture of  an  affection  which  could  not  tolerate  even  rela- 
tions as  sharers  in  his  attentions.  She  had  agreed  to  the 
separation,  feeling  confident  in  her  power  to  bring  him 
again  to  her  side,  and  regarded  that  measure  as  a  de- 


BULWER  39 

vice  ' '  to  bring  her  to  her  senses.  * '  But  when  two  years 
passed  without  any  advances  from  him,  she  concluded 
that  she  was  too  far  away,  and  resolved  to  leave  Dublin. 
The  inhibition  against  the  removal  of  the  children  was 
construed  as  a  sign  that  her  absence  from  England  was 
desired.     Therefore  she  hastened  to  Bath  alone. 

Before  their  marriage  he  had  expressed  his  objection 
to  her  essaying  authorship,  and  his  sensitiveness  and 
pride  in  his  family  were  well  known  characteristics.  So 
to  compel  him  to  notice  or  communicate  with  her,  she 
wrote  a  novel  and  lampooned  him  and  his  relations,  but 
in  a  way  which  admitted  of  repudiation  if  her  design 
should  succeed,  and  reconciliation  result.  That  very  act 
made  the  thing  she  most  desired  an  impossibility;  for 
however  easily  Bulwer  might  have  overlooked  fictitious 
depictions  wherein  he  was  subjected  to  insult  and  mis- 
representation, he  was  too  tenderly  devoted  to  his  mother 
to  forgive  the  attacks  upon  her.  When  a  London  news- 
paper published  an  offensive  paragraph  about  his  wife, 
he  added  his  name  as  nominal  plaintiff  in  the  successful 
suit  for  libel  which  followed,  but  when  she  attempted  a 
prosecution  of  Henry  Bulwer  for  some  fabricated  griev- 
ance, he  refused  to  abet  her  action,  balked  her  design, 
and  through  his  attorney  notified  her  that  he  felt  it  his 
duty  to  withdraw  the  liberty  of  access  to  their  children 
hitherto  granted,  and  that  by  a  recent  act  of  parliament 
she  could  apply  to  the  court  of  chancery  for  that  ac- 
cess, and  that  then  all  her  general  complaints  against  her 
husband  could  be  heard. 

No  appeal  was  made  to  the  court,  for  this  would  have 
ended  her  activities  without  achieving  their  object.     The 


40  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

only  finality  agreeable  to  her  was  restoration  to  the  po- 
sition she  had  forfeited.  When  he  married,  Bulwer  had 
vowed  to  endow  her  with  all  his  worldly  goods,  and  she 
had  promised  to  love,  honor,  and  obey  him.  She  ignored 
her  part  of  the  bargain,  but  insisted  upon  the  strict  ful- 
fillment of  his,  yet  the  extracts  from  her  journal  which 
have  been  published  by  her  executrix  are  of  a  nature 
to  arouse  surprise  that  her  execrable  behavior  was  toler- 
ated so  long. 

Her  journalistic  efforts  to  compel  him  to  seek  peace 
with  her  were  renewed  first  at  Florence,  then  at  Geneva. 
At  the  latter  place  she  contracted  debts  for  which  her 
husband  was  sued,  and  her  trustee  informed  her  that  her 
allowance  must  be  stopped  until  the  amount  Was  paid. 
This  she  construed  into  another  grievance ;  and  added 
to  the  list  of  her  accusations,  that  her  husband  had 
leagued  with  others  in  a  conspiracy  to  impoverish  and 
ruin  her. 

Meanwhile  Bulwer 's  mother  had  died.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  Knebworth  estate,  and  was  consequently 
of  greater  importance  and  wealth.  His  titles  were  al- 
ways quickly  annexed  by  his  wife,  but  she  began  to 
realize  that  her  schemes  were  not  accomplishing  her  pur- 
pose. Knebworth  was  his,  and  she  had  no  share  in  it, 
and  the  separation  she  had  expected  to  be  but  temporary 
was  lengthening  inconveniently.  In  letters  to  her  inti- 
mates she  made  further  charges  against  her  husband, 
advancing  assumptions  as  facts,  and  attributing  every 
trouble  which  her  own  actions  caused  her  to  his  machin- 
ations. She  returned  to  England  in  1847,  and  consulted 
attorneys  as  to  the  feasibility  of  steps  for  compelling 


BULWER  41 

an  increase  in  her  allowance.  They  could  only  advise 
a  suit  for  divorce,  but  that  was  precisely  what  she  did 
not  want. 

Bulwer's  attitude  toward  her  at  this  time  is  shown 
by  a  passage  in  Augustus  Hare 's  autobiography. 

At  Ampthill  on  Christmas  day,  1877,  he  relates,  ^'At 
dinner  the  conversation  turned  on  Lord  and  Lady  Lyt- 
ton ;  she  was  a  Miss  Doyle,  a  distant  cousin  of  Sir  Fran- 
cis, and  shortened  his  father's  life  by  her  vagaries  and 
furies.  After  his  father's  death  Sir  Francis  left  her 
alone  for  many  years.  Then  it  was  represented  to  him 
that  she  had  no  other  relations,  and  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  look  after  her  interests,  and  he  consented  to  see  her, 
and  at  her  request  to  ask  Sir  E.  Bulwer  to  give  her  an- 
other hundred  a  year.  This  Sir  Edward  said  he  was 
most  willing  to  do,  but  that  she  must  first  give  a  written 
retraction  of  some  of  the  horrible  accusations  she  had 
brought  against  him.  When  Lady  Bulwer  heard  that 
this  retraction  was  demanded  of  her,  she  turned  upon 
Sir  Francis  with  the  utmost  fury,  and  abused  him  with 
every  vile  epithet  she  could  think  of.  She  afterwards 
'v^Tote  to  him  and  directed  to  Sir  Francis  Hastings  Doyle, 
Receiver  of  Her  Majesty's  Customs  (however  infam- 
ous) Thames  Street,  London.  *But,'  said  Sir  Francis, 
*  I  also  had  my  day.  I  was  asked  as  to  her  character.  I 
answered,  ''from  your  point  of  view  I  believe  her  char- 
acter to  be  quite  immaculate,  for  I  consider  her  to  be  so 
perfectly  filled  with  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  all  un- 
charitableness,  as  to  have  no  possible  room  left  for  the 
exercise  of  any  tender  passion."  '  " 

The  failure  of  her  attempts  to  make  her  husband  seek 


42  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

reconciliation,  the  lessened  sums  obtainable  for  novels 
which  the  name  alone  sold,  the  unwelcome  discovery  that 
her  husband  neither  needed  nor  noticed  her,  that  she  had 
not  alienated  any  of  his  friends  nor  retarded  his  career, 
infuriated  her  against  all  who  were  disinclined  to  hate 
him  without  some  better  reason  than  her  command.  The 
Bulwers  had  hitherto  been  the  main  theme  of  her  def- 
amations. Now  her  husband 's  friends  —  Forster,  Dick- 
ens, Fonblanque,  Hayward,  Disraeli,  Cockburn,  and  Jer- 
den  —  were  subjected  to  virulent  abuse,  and  she  added 
to  the  list  of  her  victims  Lord  Melbourne,  against  whom 
an  atrocious  charge  was  made  on  the  authority  of  Doctor 
Maginn.  Lady  Morgan,  Lady  Holland,  Lady  Blessing- 
ton,  and  Mrs.  Norton,  all  fared  badly  at  her  hands.  Mrs. 
Wyndham  Lewis  was  scolded,  and  the  most  cruel  stab  at 
Miss  Landon^s  character  was  made  by  this  former 
friend.  Lady  Hotham  had  made  her  will  in  Mrs.  Bul- 
wer's  favor,  had  entertained  her  at  Brighton,  and  taken 
her  to  Paius.  The  Chevalier  de  Berard  had  secured  the 
publication  of  articles  written  by  Mrs.  Bulwer  for  which 
liberal  payments  were  made,  had  supplied  gossip  about 
her  husband,  and  disseminated  her  reports.  She  wrote 
to  the  Chevalier,  ' '  I  would  not  have  Lady  Hotham 's 
bad  breath  and  bad  heart  for  all  her  money.*'  He 
showed  the  letter  to  Lady  Hotham,  who  made  a  new 
will  in  which  the  Chevalier  supplanted  Mrs.  Bulwer,  and 
he  and  his  benefactress  were  duly  pilloried  in  the  next 
of  her  novels. 

Her  oblique  philippics  against  her  husband  contain 
odious  charges  and  descriptions,  but  as  illustrations  of 
his  character  and  conduct  they  are  utterly  valueless. 


BULWER  43 

Wherever  the  charges  can  be  examined  refutation  re- 
sults, and  they  are  contradicted  by  everything  we  know 
about  him.  He  was  constant  in  his  friendships,  and  re- 
tained through  life  the  regard  of  all  who  were  per- 
mitted to  be  more  than  acquaintances.  He  was  tender 
to  animals  —  the  horse  which  had  served  him  was  never 
sold,  the  dog  which  ''had  grieved  at  his  departure  and 
rejoiced  at  his  return"  has  a  monument  at  Eoiebworth. 
Those  who  knew  him  most  intimately  say  he  was  free 
from  envy,  and  his  writings  confirm  their  verdict.  Jus- 
tin McCarthy,  the  most  vicious  of  his  defamers,  admits 
that  he  has  ''heard  too  many  instances  of  his  frank  and 
brotherly  friendliness  to  utterly  obscure  writers,  who 
could  be  of  no  sort  of  service  to  him  or  to  anybody, 
not  to  feel  satisfied  of  his  unselfish  good  nature. ' '  Yet 
his  wife  pictures  him  as  false,  cruel,  mean,  envious,  and 
charitable  for  advertising  purposes  only. 

Sometimes  her  insinuations  are  merely  devices  to 
create  a  demand  for  her  novels,  as  when  she  claims  that 
publishers  were  intimidated  and  injunctions  threatened 
by  her  husband.  Often  they  are  absurd,  as  where  he  is 
represented  as  so  potent  over  writers  and  owners  of 
periodicals  that  only  such  matter  as  he  approved  of 
was  permitted  to  appear  in  their  pages.  Frequently 
they  are  foolish,  as  when  he  is  pictured  as  the  employer 
of  an  army  of  spies  and  poisoners  and  the  wielder  of  a 
mysterious  power  by  which  her  literary  ambitions  were 
frustrated.  Occasionally  they  are  impossible,  as  where 
she  hints  that  in  disguise,  under  another  name,  and  at 
his  boyhood's  home,  he  wooed  to  her  ruin  the  daughter 
of  one  of  his  mother's  tenants.     Always  her  misrepre- 


44  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

sentations  are  vile  and  offensive.  Never  is  he  pictured 
as  other  than  a  fiend,  herself  as  less  than  an  angel. 

She  was  unable  to  goad  him  into  controversy.  The 
manufacture  of  scandal  went  on,  but  elicited  no  attention 
from  him.  Neither  book,  nor  letter,  nor  accredited 
report  of  Bulwer  contains  a  syllable  derogatory  to  his 
wife.  And  so  desirous  was  he  that  only  the  most  con- 
siderate interpretation  should  be  put  upon  her  actions, 
that  by  his  will  he  restricted  all  access  to  his  papers 
which  contain  the  means  of  refuting  the  calumnies  orig- 
inating with  his  wife,  to  his  son,  and  desired  that  no 
other  person  should  write  any  biography  of  him. 

His  daughter  Emily  had  been  in  Germany,  and  ac- 
companied the  Baroness  de  Ritter  to  England  in  1848. 
She  caught  a  cold  which  gradually  grew  Avorse.  The 
Baroness  remained  with  her  in  London  until  her  own 
family  requiring  her  attention,  and  the  doctors  assuring 
her  that  absolutely  no  danger  was  to  be  apprehended, 
she  left  Emily  in  the  care  of  Miss  Greene  and  a  nurse, 
and  returned  to  Vienna.  A  thing  in  the  form  and  wear- 
ing the  dress  of  a  woman  learned  of  this  illness,  ac- 
quainted the  mother,  and  accompanied  her  to  the  house, 
where  they  engaged  the  room  the  Baroness  had  vacated. 
Against  the  protest  of  the  physicians,  who  said  that  emo- 
tion would  endanger  Miss  Lytton's  life,  they  persisted 
in  remaining,  and  went  to  Emily's  room.  Bulwer  had 
been  at  Bayou  Manor  absorbed  in  the  writing  of  Harold. 
That  task  completed,  he  came  to  London  and  found  his 
daughter  dangerously  ill,  and  her  recovery  imperilled 
by  the  presence  of  these  two.  By  his  orders  they  were 
ejected,  but  Emily  died  the  next  evening. 


BULWER  45 

Mrs.  Bulwer  was  not  the  culpable  party  in  this  out- 
rage, which  was  engineered  and  participated  in  by  a 
malicious  busybody.  But  what  Mrs.  Bulwer  had  been 
unwilling  to  believe  before,  she  was  compelled  to  ac- 
knowledge now.  All  possibility  of  reconciliation  was 
gone  forever.  Her  daughter's  death  made  her  a  criminal 
in  the  eyes  of  her  husband.  She  would  not  be  per- 
mitted to  inhabit  Knebworth.  Her  attempts  to  blight 
his  reputation  had  failed,  and  her  only  satisfaction  was 
the  knowledge  that  she  had  inflicted  a  great  grief  upon 
him.  The  collapse  of  her  air-castles  made  her  desperate 
and  reckless,  and  eager  to  cooperate  with  anyone  in  any 
way  to  spoil  his  enjoyment  of  what  she  Avas  debarred 
from  sharing.  Minor  opportunities  arose  and  were  util- 
ized, but  politics  furnished  occasion  for  the  most  start- 
ling performance. 

The  unscnipulousness  of  the  conductors  of  parliamen- 
tary elections  is  notorious.  No  party  abstains  from  dis- 
graceful practices  if  by  these  means  votes  may  be  won ; 
and  election  agents  have  always  been  preeminently  fertile 
in  stratagems  which  no  honorable  man  would  counte- 
nance. Bulwer,  always  a  protectionist,  once  had  the 
misfortune  to  do  the  whigs  an  important  service,  but  he 
declined  to  join  the  party,  and  thereby  incurred  their 
hate  and  hostility.  By  great  efforts  and  small  majori- 
ties they  twice  succeeded  in  defeating  him,  and  thus  he 
was  out  of  parliament  for  eleven  years.  In  1852  he  was 
returned  for  Hertfordshire,  and  continued  to  represent 
that  constituency  until  he  was  made  a  peer. 

In  their  anxiety  to  keep  him  out  of  parliament  the 
whigs  made  use  of  his  wife,  not  only  by  references  in 


46  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

placards  and  fabricated  addresses,  but  even  by  bringing 
her  to  the  hustings.  In  1858  he  was  returning  thanks 
to  the  voters,  when  an  equipage  decorated  in  yellow  — 
the  color  of  the  whigs  —  was  driven  alongside  his  car- 
riage, and  one  of  its  occupants,  a  woman  dressed  in 
yellow,  and  carrying  a  yellow  sunshade,  addressed  him. 
He  did  not  recognize  in  the  florid,  portly  dame,  the  sylph 
he  had  known  twenty  years  before,  and  his  deafness  pre- 
vented him  from  hearing  what  she  said.  Putting  his 
hand  to  his  ear  to  intercept  the  sound,  he  bent  forward 
to  listen  to  her,  and  her  words  were : 

* '  Wretch !  don 't  you  know  me  ?    I  am  your  wife !  * ' 

Bulwer  bowed  to  the  voters,  and  drove  away  leaving 
her  to  harangue  at  her  pleasure. 

This  encounter  exhausted  his  toleration.  Concluding 
that  only  madness  could  account  for  her  degrading  her- 
self into  the  hireling  of  a  dishonorable  political  opposi- 
tion, he  instructed  attorneys  to  employ  medical  authori- 
ties and  enquire  into  her  sanity.  Their  report  confirmed 
his  surmise,  and  by  his  orders  the  necessary  formalities 
were  gone  through  and  she  was  committed  to  a  private 
madhouse.  His  political  opponents  turned  the  occur- 
rence to  every  possible  account. 

Too  ill  to  attend  to  the  matter  himself,  friends  inter- 
fered and  took  the  business  in  hand.  After  three  weeks 
detention  she  was  released,  and  his  son  accompanied  the 
wretched  woman  abroad,  but  so  obnoxious  and  intolerable 
had  everything  connected  with  her  become,  that  by  thus 
associating  with  his  mother,  to  spare  his  father  further 
vexation  and  annoyance,  Robert  Lytton  became  for  a 
time  estranged  from  one  parent,  while  the  vagaries  and 


BULWER  47 

tempests  of  violence  of  the  other  made  the  four  months 
during  which  he  endured  her  caprices  an  unforgettable 
horror.  When  made  aware  of  the  motives  which  had 
actuated  Robert  Lytton,  and  satisfied  that  the  mother 
had  failed  to  pervert  him,  the  affectionate  relations  be- 
tween father  and  son  were  restored,  while  by  a  new  deed 
the  allowance  to  Mrs.  Bulwer  was  increased  to  five  hun- 
dred pounds  per  year. 

The  failure  to  win  her  son's  support  and  affection  away 
from  the  father  dampened  but  did  not  extinguish  the 
ardor  of  the  terribly  disappointed  woman.  Publishers 
declined  her  offered  books,  but  still  she  found  oppor- 
tunity to  repeat  and  add  to  her  tale  of  supposed  wrongs, 
still  she  sought  occasion  to  mortify  the  owner  of  Kneb- 
worth,  even  planning  the  organization  of  a  public  sub- 
scription to  herself  as  an  object  of  charity.  Her  ungov- 
ernable temper  drove  away  some  who  wished  to  befriend 
her.  She  tolerated  only  those  who  entirely  agreed-  with 
her.  Quarrels  with  printers  and  frequent  changes  of 
lawyers  supplied  excitement  which  seemed  necessary  to 
her  existence.  Gradually  her  circle  dwindled,  and  she 
gravitated  to  lower  social  environments,  feeling  acutely 
the  contrast  her  condition  presented  to  that  which  had 
been,  and  might  have  continued  but  for  her  determina- 
tion to  compel  what  she  could  easily  have  induced.  Not- 
withstanding her  ''fear  that  sudden  good  fortune  such 
as  her  brain  being  turned  by  a  widow's  cap  might  prove 
fatal  to  her,"  she  sui^vived  her  husband  until  1882, 
dying  in  her  eightieth  year. 

Had  she  possessed  a  little  common  sense,  her  life  would 
have  been  a  happy  and  honored  one.  No  one  more  needed 


48  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

a  wise  counselor,  no  one  rejected  counsel  with  greater 
scorn.  She  devoted  her  abilities  to  an  unworthy  scheme, 
and  was  unscrupulous  in  her  methods.  She  failed  in  all 
her  apparent  purposes,  and  wrecked  her  own  life,  but 
she  effected  more  than  she  probably  perceived.  Not  only 
did  she  harass  and  embitter  her  husband's  life,  cause 
him  to  prefer  solitude  to  society,  and  other  lands  to 
England:  she  also  diverted  the  main  current  of  his 
energies  from  political  into  literary  channels.  But  for 
his  defeat  at  Lincoln,  to  which  she  contributed,  Bulwer 
might  have  been  premier  of  England  after  Aberdeen. 
As  it  was,  the  chance  came  later;  but  he  was  then  infirm, 
deaf,  griefworn,  and  too  appreciative  of  the  abilities 
and  services  of  Disraeli  to  take  any  steps  except  such  as 
would  further  the  claims  of  his  friend. 

Pilling  in  the  replies  to  a  series  of  questions  in  one  of 
the  books  of  Confessions  once  popular,  Bulwer  in  1866, 
against  the  query  ' '  What  do  you  love  most  in  the  world  ? ' ' 
wrote,  * '  The  woman  I  hate  the  most. " 

In  1836,  after  the  disruption  of  his  home,  Bulwer  was 
compelled  to  relax  his  strivings  for  fame,  and  care  for 
his  health,  which  was  now  in  so  wretched  a  condition 
that  he  despaired  of  recovery  and  regarded  his  days  as 
already  numbered.  Physicians  advised  travel  and  rest, 
so  he  visited  different  parts  of  England  and  Ireland,  and 
made  journeys  through  France,  Germany,  and  Italy.  His 
eager  mind,  which  could  not  be  constrained  into  inactiv- 
ity, was  directed  toward  other  exercises,  change  of  study 
supplying  an  equivalent  for  rest,  with  the  further  effect 
of  increasing  the  range  and  variety  of  form  of  his  literary 
productions. 


BULWER  49 

The  efforts  to  regain  lost  health,  beginning  in  1831, 
continued  until  1844,  when  he  became  interested  in  the 
water  cure,  and  as  a  patient  at  the  Malvern  Hydropathic 
institution,  derived  much  benefit.  In  an  article  con- 
tributed to  the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  he  called  atten- 
tion to  the  advantages  of  the  treatment. 

Meanwhile  an  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Macready,  and 
sympathy  with  that  gentleman's  desire  to  render  the 
theatre  worthy  of  the  patronage  of  intelligent-  human 
beings,  caused  Bulwer  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  stage. 
He  wrote  a  series  of  plays,  of  which  a  few  were  produced 
and  have  retained  their  popularity.  But  Mr.  Macready 
found  that  the  management  of  a  London  theatre  was  un- 
profitable, and  with  his  retirement  the  author  of  The 
Lady  of  Lyotis,  Richelieu,  and  Money,  lost  all  incentive 
to  write  for  the  stage.  Several  plays  which  he  reckoned 
among  the  best  of  his  works  have  never  been  performed, 
and  therefore  remain  unpublished. 

The  playwright  experiences  were  of  great  importance 
in  Bulwer 's  artistic  development.  They  gave  him  larger 
and  sounder  perceptions  of  the  dignity  and  effectiveness 
of  dramatic  methods,  familiarized  him  with  the  tools  of 
the  profession  —  the  actors,  the  stage,  and  its  accessories 
—  and  supplemented  his  general  information  regarding 
structure,  form,  and  conduct  by  knowledge,  practically 
acquired,  of  the  respective  values  of  dialogue  and  narra- 
tion, incidents  and  situations ;  and  enabled  him  to  recog- 
nise quickly  the  dramatic  possibilities  in  a  story,  a  char- 
acter, or  an  event.  After  the  brief  period  during  which 
he  was  engaged  in  the  production  of  acted  plays,  notice- 
able advances  in  his  methods,  and  higher  achievements  in 
his  work  are  apparent.     Between  Maltr avers  which  pre- 


50  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ceded  and  Night  and  Morning  which  followed  his  writ- 
ings for  the  stage,  the  difference  is  very  great.  In  the 
latter  the  construction  is  more  symmetrical,  the  situa^ 
tions  more  compact  and  poignant,  the  characters  are 
more  deftly  moved  and  displayed  in  action,  and  the  con- 
densation is  greater.  And  all  his  succeeding  works  are 
essentially  dramatic  in  structure  and  presentation. 

On  the  accession  of  Queen  Victoria  iu  1838,  Bulwer 
was  knighted  as  a  recognition  of  literature,  Herschel 
being  similarly  honored  as  a  representative  of  science. 

The  succeeding  decade  of  his  life  was  crowded  with 
sorrows  and  griefs  and  disappointments,  but  it  was  also 
the  period  of  his  most  wonderful  productiveness.  From 
the  harsh  and  painful  real  he  turned  to  that  world  where- 
in fairer  conditions  are  found,  and  in  the  abstraction  of 
artistic  creation  he  found  refuge  from  the  iron  visitations 
of  calamity. 

The  Earl  of  Durham,  a  friend  and  statesman  whose 
views  and  policy  he  most  cordially  admired,  betrayed  by 
the  ministry  which  had  begged  his  aid,  died  broken- 
hearted in  1840,  without  having  attained  to  the  power 
and  position  to  which  his  ability  and  popularity  entitled 
him.  At  the  general  elections  in  1841  Bulwer  was  de- 
feated at  Lincoln,  and  ceased  to  be  a  member  of  parlia- 
ment. In  1844  his  mother  died  and  he  succeeded  to  the 
Knebworth  estate,  taking  the  name  of  Lytton  in  com- 
pliance with  the  terms  of  her  will,  and  in  1848  occurred 
the  tragic  death  of  his  daughter. 

The  loss  of  his  seat  in  the  house  of  commons  changed 
the  course  of  Bulwer 's  life.  Hitherto  politics  had  been 
studied  and  cultivated  with  as  much  assiduity  as  liter- 


BULWER  51 

ature.  He  had  regarded  his  writings  as  auxiliary  ex- 
pressions of  his  views,  extending  his  influence  and  estab- 
lishing his  reputation,  linking  his  name  to  his  land's 
language,  and  securing  future  recognition.  But  for  con- 
temporary influence,  the  career  of  a  successful  parlia- 
mentarian had  appealed  with  greater  force  to  his  ambi- 
tion than  literary  fame,  and  in  his  plans  had  always  had 
the  foremost  consideration.  His  defeat  at  Lincoln  and 
the  offensive  notoriety  given  to  his  domestic  infelicity  at 
recurring  elections,  added  to  increasing  deafness,  fragile 
health,  and  great  griefs,  caused  him  to  abandon  parlia- 
mentary life.  Though  he  contested  Lincoln  again  un- 
successfully in  1847,  he  declined  other  seats  and  resigned 
himself  to  the  relinquishment  of  what  had  been  his  chief 
aspiration. 

He  had  won  more  successes  than  are  usually  obtained 
by  a  member  unattached  to  either  of  the  great  parties. 
He  was  among  the  earliest  of  those  who  objected  to  the 
taxes  on  knowledge,  and  his  speeches  against  the  news- 
paper stamp  duties  had  much  to  do  with  their  immediate 
reduction  and  ultimate  repeal.  By  the  Dramatic  Au- 
thor's Act,  which  he  carried,  he  removed  the  evils  under 
which  playwrights  had  labored,  putting  an  end  to  the 
wrongful  appropriation  of  their  productions  without 
recompense.  He  advocated  changes  in  the  corn  laws, 
but  always  opposed  their  repeal.  His  objections  to  the 
Irish  Coercion  Act  were  ineffectual,  but  many  of  his 
phrases  on  the  subject  are  still  current.  His  speech 
against  negro  apprenticeship  changed  sufficient  votes  to 
defeat  the  government,  and  hastened  emancipation.  His 
efforts  in  the  house  were  steadily  supported  by  his  articles 


52  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

in  the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  the  Examiner,  and  the 
Monthly  Chronicle^  and  when  William  IV,  dismissing 
the  whig  government,  installed  Wellington  as  premier, 
Bulwer  issued  a  pamphlet  in  defense  of  the  fallen  min- 
isters, which  affected  the  ensuing  elections,  and  assisted 
in  returning  them  to  power.  Again  in  1838,  by  an  article 
in  the  Edinhwrgh  Review,  he  greatly  helped  the  whigs. 
But  though  commending  some  of  their  measures,  he  dis- 
liked and  distrusted  the  party,  and  when  the  anti-corn 
law  programme  was  adopted,  and  a  fiscal  measure  made 
their  distinctive  principle,  all  his  relations  with  the  whigs 
definitely  ended.  They  changed  their  policy  in  the  direc- 
tion of  popularity;  his  convictions  were  unaltered,  and 
he  remained  a  protectionist. 

His  political  career  thus  arrested,  the  management  of 
his  property  and  the  education  of  his  son  and  daughter 
were  his  only  occupations  apart  from  literary  work,  on 
which  he  now  concentrated  all  his  attention  and  energy. 
In  The  Last  of  the  Barons  he  made  romance  the  elucida- 
tor  of  history ;  in  Zanoni  he  raised  it  to  equivalence  with 
the  epic ;  and  in  Lucretia  he  rivalled  the  mightiest  of  old 
tragedies.  A  volume  of  reflective  verse.  The  New  Timon, 
King  Arthur;  and  a  translation  of  Schiller's  poems 
evidenced  the  variety  of  his  industry. 

During  these  years  the  master  of  Knebworth  was  a 
lonely  man.  He  entertained  largely,  but  his  deafness 
precluded  familiar  converse  with  guests  other  than  old- 
time  friends.  An  honored  visitor  at  the  houses  of  those 
in  whom  he  reposed  confidence,  he  had  grown  suspicious 
of  strangers,  shunned  the  circles  where  political  enemies 
might  be  encountered,  and  was  reserved  and  guarded 


BULWER  53 

when  whig  writers  or  politicians  were  present.  His 
capacity  for  work  remained  as  great  as  when  in  earlier 
years  he  had  astonished  S.  C.  Hall  by  having  articles 
ready  for  him  in  the  morning  which  could  not  have  been 
begun  until  late  in  the  preceding  evening.  The  Lady  of 
Lyons  was  written  in  ten  days,  Harold  in  three  weeks. 
Sometimes  he  was  busy  with  two  or  more  tasks  concur- 
rently, and  often  he  became  so  absorbed  in  the  work  he 
was  evolving  that  his  actions,  dress,  and  speech  for 
months  at  a  stretch  partook  of  the  character  of  those 
he  was  portraying. 

He  spent  much  of  his  time  abroad,  but  continued  com- 
position wherever  he  went,  and  kept  up  an  extensive 
correspondence.  He  was  a  competent  judge  of  art,  and 
while  travelling  he  gathered  paintings,  sculptures,  tapes- 
tries, and  porcelains  with  which  he  adorned  Knebworth 
after  completing  the  house  in  harmony  with  his  mother's 
plans.  His  close  observation  and  acute  discernment  of 
the  tendencies  of  measures  and  movements  were  shown 
by  his  forecasting  the  rise  of  the  house  of  Sardinia; 
pointing  out  the  insecurity  of  Louis  Philippe,  and  the 
renewed  growth  of  Napoleonism;  and  presaging  PeeFs 
desertion  of  the  land-owners. 

He  was  in  Italy  when  Peel  announced  his  determina- 
tion to  repeal  the  corn  laws ;  and  the  treachery  of  a  leader 
to  the  party  which  had  trusted  him,  and  his  conviction 
of  the  mischievous  unwisdom  of  the  proposed  changes, 
reawakened  his  political  ardor.  He  returned  to  Eng- 
land, published  the  Letters  to  John  Bull  in  defense  of 
protection,  contested  Hertfordshire  successfully,  and  in 
1852  reentered  parliament  and  straightway  attained  a 


54  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

commanding  influence  in  the  house.  He  could  not  take 
part  in  debate,  but  he  was  one  of  the  dozen  foremost 
orators,  and  spoke  frequently  and  effectively,  though 
speechmaking  tasked  his  strength  severely.  Under  the 
excitation  it  produuced  he  was  energetic,  rapid,  and  force- 
ful, but  after  the  effort  his  spare  frame  trembled,  and 
he  reeled  in  his  walk  as  if  inebriated.  But  so  resolute 
and  self-compelling  was  the  man  that  physical  disabili- 
ties which  Disraeli  thought  were  insuperable,  aggravated 
by  deafness  which  made  the  once  * '  lover-like ' '  voice  dis- 
cordant, were  triumphed  over,  and  by  the  most  critical 
assembly  in  the  world  he  was  recognised  as  an  orator, 
and  delivered  speeches  which,  outlasting  their  immediate 
purpose,  continue  to  command  attention. 

Bulwer's  speeches  in  the  house  of  commons  in  their 
combination  of  present  effectiveness  and  enduring  in- 
terest are  admirable  achievements.  Elsewhere  and  often 
he  demonstrated  his  mastery  of  the  art  of  the  orator  to 
varied  and  sometimes  hostile  audiences,  whose  attention 
he  always  secured.  Opulence  of  information,  thorough 
mastery  of  the  subject,  and  knowledge  of  mankind,  char- 
acterise all  his  addresses. 

Parliamentary  duties  and  the  occupations  which  ac- 
companied their  discharge  were  not  permitted  to  monop- 
olize all  his  attention.  He  continued  to  produce  ro- 
mances which  were  enriched  by  the  experiences  acquired 
as  a  legislator,  and  dealt,  at  least  incidentally,  with  mat- 
ters pertinent  to  the  passing  time,  or  relevant  to  existing 
conditions.  Emigration  as  a  career  for  the  educated  was 
advocated  in  The  Caxtons;  the  inutility  of  haste  and 
unwisdom   of  class   antagonism  were  enforced  in   My 


BULWER  55 

Novel ;  the  ease  with  which  a  propensity  not  necessarily 
blameworthy  may  be  nursed  into  a  vice  was  shown  in 
What  Will  He  Do  With  It  f ;  the  weaknesses  inherent  in 
unrestrained  democratic  rule  were  exposed  in  Harold] 
and  the  evil  possibilities  accompanying  commercial  de- 
velopment were  indicated  in  A  Strange  Story.  A  play, 
^'Not  so  Bad  as  we  Seem,"  was  written  for  a  company 
of  distinguished  amateurs  which  included  Charles  Dick- 
ens, John  Forster,  and  Douglas  Jerrold.  St.  Stephens^ 
a  series  of  portraits  of  past  political  leaders ;  and  Coiii- 
flowerSf  a  collection  of  poems,  were  other  additions  to 
the  list  of  his  works. 

Prudent  and  careful  in  business  matters,  he  made  fre- 
quent purchases  of  houses  and  properties,  which  were 
invariably  disposed  of  advantageously,  and  he  never  had 
any  misunderstandings  with  his  publishers. 

He  would  not  submit  to  imposition,  but  he  bore  no  re- 
sentment toward  those  who  attempted  to  over-reach  him. 
Hazlitt  unsuccessfully  tried  something  nearly  allied  to 
blackmail,  yet  Bulwer  made  generous  mention  of  the 
Irish  critic  in  England  and  the  English,  and  contributed 
a  kindly  notice  of  his  writings  to  a  posthumous  publica- 
tion of  Haijlitt  'a  Remains. 

He  was  selfreliant  and  intrepid.  His  first  election  for 
Hertfordshire  was  hotly  contested,  the  whigs  directing 
their  principal  attacks  upon  him  as  the  most  eminent  of 
the  conservative  candidates.  A  body  of  roughs  imported 
for  the  occasion,  by  the  use  of  brickbats,  secured  posses- 
sion of  the  ground  in  front  of  the  hustings,  and  by  their 
yells  and  execrations  prevented  anything  said  by  the 
senior  candidates  from  being  heard.     When  Bulwer  ad- 


56  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

vanced  to  the  front  they  redoubled  their  fury.  Below 
the  hustings  an  enclosure  had  been  constructed  for  the 
reporters.  Suddenly  Bulwer  leaped  down,  alighting 
upon  this  platform.  A  moment 's  silence  followed.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  it,  he  entered  into  conversation  with 
the  noisiest  of  the  roughs,  shook  hands  with  him, 
drew  him  into  an  argument,  and  glided  into  an  hour's 
speech  which  was  listened  to  respectfully  and  cordially 
cheered. 

In  geomancy  he  accomplished  remarkable  forecasts. 
The  autobiography  of  Augustus  Hare  details  one.  In 
Drummond  Wolff's  Rambling  Recollections  another  is 
given.  The  Life  by  the  Earl  of  Lytton  records  the  in- 
terpretation of  a  figure  concerning  Disraeli,  and  John 
Morley  in  his  biography  of  Gladstone  remarks  about  a 
geomantic  deduction  he  had  examined,  that  ''the  stars 
must  have  known  their  business. ' ' 

A  dry  humor  often  vented  in  playful  irony,  and  gen- 
erally accepted  literally  by  his  hearers,  an  extreme 
economy  in  small  expenses  combined  with  great  liberality 
in  large  matters  (the  characteristic  of  all  rulers  who 
have  made  their  states  prosperous),  disregard  for  the 
current  fashion  in  dress,  and  a  serious  respect  for  divina- 
tion, astrology,  and  other  things  usually  scorned  as 
superstitions,  were  surface  oddities  of  the  man.  Deeper 
xjharacteristics  were  intense  patriotism,  great  tenderness, 
reverence  for  his  mother  and  lasting  regard  for  all  that 
she  had  loved,  and  readiness  to  counsel  or  aid  in  any 
project  which  appealed  to  his  sympathy. 

Envious   mediocrities    continued    to   decry   the   man 


BULWER  57 

whose  greatness  they  were  incompetent  to  gauge,  but 
from  other  sources  honors  flowed  in  upon  him.  He 
received  the  degree  of  D.  C.  L.  from  Oxford  University 
in  1853,  was  chosen  Lord  Rector  of  Edinburgh  Uni- 
versity in  1854,  aind  Lord  Rector  of  Glasgow  University 
in  1856-57  and  again  in  1858. 

He  became  Secretary  for  the  Colonies  in  1858-59,  dur- 
ing Lord  Derby's  second  premiership,  and  adminis- 
tered the  affairs  of  his  office  in  a  manner  which  won  the 
commendation  of  the  editor  of  The  Times,  usually  an 
unfriendly  critic.  But  the  absence  of  elevated  views, 
the  general  preference  of  small  successes  and  indiffer- 
ence to  great  issues  in  policy,  and  a  truckling  spirit  in 
the  majority  of  those  prominent  in  both  political  parties, 
made  the  position  of  cabinet  minister  uncongenial  to 
him.  His  scrupulous  attention  to  its  duties  greatly  over- 
taxed his  strength,  and  necessitated  a  less  active  partic- 
ipation in  legislative  affairs,  and  on  the  defeat  of  the 
Derby  administration,  he  had  recourse  to  further  and 
more  extended  travels. 

His  son  was  a  poet  of  unusual  promise,  and  longed 
to  follow  his  father  *s  example  and  become  a  man  of 
letters.  Bulwer,  aware  of  the  meagre  honors,  slender 
rewards,  and  equivocal  appreciation  grudgingly  accord- 
ed to  literary  ability,  planned  a  different  career  for  him, 
made  his  education  a  preparation  for  diplomacy,  and 
by  wise  management  secured  the  surrender  of  his  son's 
cherished  desire,  and  the  adoption  of  a  calling  not  great- 
ly liked,  but  more  worthy  and  dignified ;  and  so  tactful 
was  the  father  that  the  offer  of  a  position  under  Sir 


58  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Henry  Bulwer  came  as  a  surprise  to  Robert  Lytton,  and 
its  acceptance  was  consented  to  with  seeming  reluctance 
by  Bulwer. 

By  this  time  pain,  worry,  sorrow,  and  the  wear  which 
emotion  causes  in  writers  who  feel,  had  changed  the 
man  more  than  mere  years  and  excessive  labor  would 
account  for.  His  ' ^ glitteringly  golden"  hair  had  be- 
come iron  grey,  deep  lines  had  been  ploughed  in  his 
face,  his  shoulders  were  bent,  the  former  restlessness 
had  been  succeeded  by  apparent  languor.  He  whose 
energy  had  once  been  so  buoyant  seemed  listless  and 
broken,  and  abusive  attacks  which  formerly  roused  his 
anger  were  now  regarded  with  indifference.  His  inter- 
est in  politics  and  social  movements  was  undiminished, 
and  his  literaiy  industry  continued  unabated,  although 
the  ten  years  following  1861  have  not  a  single  romance 
to  their  credit.  The  wise  and  thoughtful  essays  called 
Caxtoniana;  the  rhymed  comedy  Walpole;  a,  translation 
of  Hororce ;  and  The  Lost  Tales  of  Miletus  were  the  pro- 
ducts of  these  years. 

In  1866  he  was  elevated  to  the  peerage,  and  gazetted 
Baron  Lytton  of  Knebworth,  but  he  never  spoke  in  the 
Upper  Chamber.  Illness  or  untoward  circumstances 
interfered  on  each  occasion  when  he  intended  to  ad- 
dress the  lords. 

For  the  remainder  of  his  life,  he  was  an  onlooker 
rather  than  an  agent  in  events;  and  his  art  afforded 
him  a  solacing  satisfaction  denied  to  his  survey  of  actu- 
alities. Foreseeing  the  imminent  domination  of  an  im- 
perfectly educated  and  untrained  democracy ;  witness- 


BULWER  59 

ing  the  ferment  of  partially  considered  "new  ideas" 
concerning  government  and  social  organization;  recog- 
nising the  absence  of  large  views  in  statesmen,  and  the 
disproportionate  esteem  vouchsafed  to  wealth  by  all 
classes;  he  regarded  with  dismay  the  future  of  his  na- 
tive laud,  and  the  despondency  with  which  the  prospect 
filled  him  colors  the  last  group  of  his  writings. 

The  Coming  Race  was  published  anonymously  in  1871, 
and  the  erroneous  ascription  of  its  authorship  to  other 
writers  gave  him  much  amusement.  In  that  work  refer- 
ence was  made  to  the  malady  which  physicians  had 
warned  him  might  suddenly  prove  fatal.  The  Parisians 
followed  in  monthly  instalhnents  in  Blackwood^ s  Maga- 
zine, and  a  new  fame  had  been  achieved,  without  any- 
one discerning  the  personality  of  the  writer.  He  was 
living  at  Torquay,  his  intellectual  vigor  unimpaired  and 
his  ability  to  interest  readers  re-attested,  —  busy  with 
Kenelm  ChUUngly  as  well  as  The  Parisians,  engaged 
also  upon  Pausanias,  and  putting  the  finishing  touches 
on  a  play.  His  son  and  daughter-in-law,  after  a  two- 
months'  visit,  had  just  left  for  London,  when  what 
proved  to  be  the  final  seizure  of  his  old  ailment  attacked 
him,  and  put  an  end  to  his  varied  activities.  He  wrote 
putting  off  an  engagement  with  a  friend,  saying  he  was 
suffering  more  pain  than  he  had  ever  endured  in  his 
life.  His  son  was  summoned,  and  arrived  in  time  to 
witness  the  peaceful  ending  of  his  father's  life.  Soon 
all  was  over.  Bulwer  died  January  18,  1873,  and  was 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey.  John  Forster  wrote  of 
him,  * '  Never  in  the  coui'se  of  our  lifelong  intimacy  have 


60  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

I  found  him  other  than  the  very  highest  and  noblest  and 
truest  under  every  test  and  trial. ' ' 

The  stone  which  marks  his  grave  bears  the  following 
inscription : 

EDWABD   GEORGE   EAELE  LYTTON  BULWER  LYTTON 

Born  25.  May  1803  — Died  18.  January  1873 

1831-1841  Member  of  Parliament  for  St.  Ives  and  for  Lincoln 

1838  Baronet  of  the  United  Kingdom 

1852-1866  Knight  of  the  Shire  for  the  County  of  Hertford 

1858    One  of  Her  Majesty's  Principal  Secretaries  of  State 

Knight  Grand  Cross  of  St.  Michael  and  St.  George 

1866  Baron  Lytton  of  Knebworth 

Laborious  and  distinguished  in  all  fields  of  intellectual  activity 

Indefatigable  and  Ardent  in  the  cultivation  and  love  of  Letters 

His  genius  as  an  Author  was  displayed  in  the  most  varied  forms 

Which  have  connected  indissolubly 

With  every  department  of  the  Literature  of  his  time 

The  name  of  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton 


BULWER'S  ROMANCES 

THE  experiences  and  reflections  of  one  whose  fac- 
ulties and  powers  were  developed  and  strength- 
ened by  a  life  divided  between  varied  action  and 
comprehensive  study  are  embodied  in  Bulwer's  ro- 
mances, which  in  their  sequential  succession  mirror  the 
circumstances  and  stages  of  their  author's  career;  grow- 
ing, widening,  and  increasing  in  importance,  wisdom, 
and  purpose,  with  his  enlarged  opportunities  and  ad- 
vancement. All  his  works,  in  addition  to  their  struc- 
tural and  artistic  qualities,  have  a  definite  applicability 
to  conditions  and  ideas  prevalent  at  the  time  of  their 
production.  Each  sought  to  draw  some  lesson  from  the 
past,  to  effect  some  beneficial  social  amendment,  or  to 
elevate  the  character  of  his  countrymen,  and  thus  aug- 
ment the  honor  and  influence  of  his  native  land.  Though 
he  wrote  of  other  countries,  it  was  always  of  England 
that  he  thought,  and  the  permanent  growth  in  intelli- 
gence and  usefulness  of  his  race  rather  than  the  advan- 
tage of  any  one  class  was  the  constant  object  of  his  la- 
bors. 

His  position,  education,  and  the  circumstances  of  his 
life  were  unusually  advantageous.  Born  a  member  of 
an  old  and  well-to-do  family,  associating  from  childhood 
with  the  high  and  eminent,  an  extensive  traveller,  a  sys- 
tematic reader,  master  of  the  Latin,  Greek,  French,  Ger- 


62  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

man,  and  Italian  languages,  deeply  informed  concerning 
the  literatures  of  other  lands  and  familiar  with  that  of 
his  own,  his  equipment  for  authorship  was  enlarged  by- 
active  participation  in  civic  affairs,  and  thereby  he  ac- 
quired that  appositeness  which  is  usually  lacking  in 
those  who  are  closet  students  only.  With  continental 
cities  and  peoples  he  was  intimately  acquainted,  and 
every  department  of  human  knowledge  except  the  rig- 
orously scientific  interested  him.  He  was  profoundly 
versed  in  art,  learned  in  philosophy,  and  not  a  disciple 
of  any  one  system ;  independent  in  his  judgment,  shrewd 
in  criticism,  acute  in  observation ;  and  all  his  knowledge 
was  applied  to  the  study  of  man  and  his  destiny. 

In  him  a  mind  naturally  keen,  penetrating,  and  eager 
was  so  admirably  cultivated  that  where  he  reasons  he  is 
logical  and  illuminating,  and  in  imagining  remains  ex- 
quisitely sane.  Even  when  dealing  with  things  remote 
from  human  experience,  he  is  never  lost  in  cloudland. 
His  purpose  is  always  clear,  his  mastery  of  his  materials 
always  evident. 

Two  qualities  rarely  combined  in  one  individual  were 
united  in  him:  clear-seeing,  the  ability  to  perceive  pol- 
icies immediately  advantageous ;  and  far-sightedness,  the 
power  to  discern  the  ultimate  results  of  new  departures 
and  movements  and  innovations. 

He  was  an  observer,  investigator,  and  thinker  who 
utilized  his  every  experience;  a  student  who  deemed 
every  effort  of  other  minds  to  extend  the  bounds  of  the 
known,  worthy  of  his  serious  attention;  an  active  par- 
ticipator in  business  affairs  and  statesmanship ;  a  writer 
who  never  trafficked  on  his  name  nor  sought  to  detract 


BULWER'S  ROMANCES  63 

from  the  reputation  of  others,  finding  more  satisfaction 
in  praising  than  in  finding  fault,  and  regarding  good- 
ness as  of  more  merit  than  ability;  an  achiever  of  mar- 
vellous successes,  who  endured 

' '  The  long  sadness  of  a  much  wronged  life, 
The  sneer  of  satire,  and  the  gibe  of  fools, 
The  broken  hearthgods,  and  the  perjured  wife" 

without  repining,  or  any  lessening  of  his  geniality,  kind- 
liness, and  sympathy. 

A  wide  range  of  subjects,  a  noble  array  of  characters, 
varied  methods  of  presentation,  and  a  style  matchless 
for  its  combination  of  dignity,  ease,  and  clearness,  are 
the  means  by  which  extensive  erudition,  vast  knowledge 
of  the  world,  incisive  penetration  into  motives  and  de- 
signs, reasoned  consideration  of  policies,  projects,  and 
speculations,  practical  acquaintance  with  humanity  *s 
strengths  and  weaknesses,  and  original  suggestions,  ob- 
servations, and  comments  are  presented  to  his  readers. 

His  career  was  a  gradual  advance  to  higher  dignities 
and  honors,  and  his  romances  fall  naturally  into  five 
groups  correspondent  with  important  stages  in  his  prog- 
ress. 

In  the  first  period  he  was  avowedly  an  experimenter, 
intent  upon  learning  the  capabilities  and  limitations  of 
the  romance  form,  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  methods 
and  the  use  of  materials,  and  gaining  facility  in  the  art 
of  composition.  Falklandy  Felham,  The  Disotvned,  Dev- 
ereux,  and  Paul  Clifford  belong  to  this  period. 

The  works  of  the  second  group  express  the  views  and 
record  the  investigations  of  one  who  was  as  much  a  pub- 


64  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

licist  as  an  author.  With  his  election  to  the  House  of 
Commons  the  parliamentarian  was  joined  to  the  writer 
and  shared  in  his  interests,  experiences,  and  aspirations. 
Godolphin,  Eiigene  Aram,  The  Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine ^ 
The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  Rienzi,  Leila,  and  Maltrav- 
ers,  constitute  this  group. 

The  third  period  coincides  with  the  years  during 
which  he  was  absent  from  parliament,  and  followed  his 
experiments  in  playwriting.  His  undivided  attention 
being  given  to  art,  this  is  the  group  of  his  mightiest 
works.  It  includes  Night  and  Morning,  Zanoni,  The 
Last  of  the  Barons,  Lucretia,  Harold,  and  Pausanias. 

With  his  election  as  member  for  Hertfordshire  the 
fourth  period  begins.  The  author  and  legislator  are 
merged,  and  the  works  have  an  intimate  bearing  on  cur- 
rent movements  and  social  conditions.  The  Caxtons, 
My  Novel,  and  What  Will  He  Do  With  It?  form  this 
group. 

The  fifth  period  followed  his  retirement  from  official 
life,  when,  no  longer  a  participator  in  events,  he  records 
his  views  of  present  tendencies,  and  looking  into  the 
future  describes  the  potentialities  of  current  theories 
and  new  ideas.  A  Strange  Story,  The  Coming  Race, 
Kenelm  Chillingly,  and  The  Parisians  are  the  products 
of  this  period. 


FALKLAND 

THIS  is  a  study  in  sentiment,  and  belongs  to  the 
same  class  as  Goethe's  Werther  and  Fronde's 
Nemesis  of  Fa/ith.  It  records  and  subjects  to  an- 
alysis an  infatuation  which  honor,  good  resolutions,  and 
prudent  counsels  are  insufficient  to  dissolve;  shows  that 
when  passion  is  permitted  to  overmaster  duty  and  im- 
pel to  the  disregard  of  social  conventions,  retributive 
calamity  results;  and  illustrates  the  fact  by  the  fates  of 
the  sinning  characters. 

Part  of  the  story  is  narrated,  much  is  told  in  letters 
and  excerpts  from  diaries.  Its  lessons  are  that  virtuous 
principles  are  more  desirable  than  uncertain  impulses, 
and  that  good  hearts,  unguided  by  regulated  minds,  will 
not  preserve  their  possessors  from  error  and  punishment. 

Falkland  was  published  anonymously  by  Colbum  in 
1828.  Its  author  never  admitted  it  into  any  of  the  col- 
lected editions  of  his  works,  because  he  condemned  its 
over-somber  coloring  of  life  and  its  indulgence  in  a  vein 
of  sentiment,  common  enough,  but  ''neither  new  in  its 
expression  nor  true  in  its  philosophy."  He  wrote  of 
Falkland  in  1837,  as  ''the  crude  and  passionate  utter- 
ance of  a  mere  boy,  which  I  sincerely  regret  and  would 
willingly  retract." 

But  the  work  displays  power,  feeling,  and  insight,  and 
is  interesting  not  only  as  a  first  work,  but  because  it 


66  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

shows  how  observation  and  experience  were  utilized  by  a 
very  young  writer,  whose  acquaintance  with  Lady  Caro- 
line Lamb  suggested  the  chara<jters  and  incidents.  And 
it  marks  a  stage  in  the  artistic  development  of  its  author,, 
for  through  it  his  critical  perception  was  advanced  be- 
yond what  had  hitherto  been  the  standard  of  fictionists, 
and  he  saw  that  the  moral  intent  of  a  work  was  not  the 
only  consideration,  for  in  the  conduct  of  a  story  such  de- 
pictions as  may  by  any  possibility  injuriously  affect  a 
reader  must  be  avoided.  Otherwise  incidenta,l  descrip- 
tions may  nullify  the  general  purpose,  as  in  Fielding's 
Tom  Jones  certain  portions  have  a  harmful  potentiality, 
notwithstanding  the  unquestionable  ethical  intent  of  the 
whole  work. 


PELHAM 

THE  education  and  after-adventures  of  one  of  gen- 
tle birth,  reared  and  trained  as  was  customary  with 
his  class,  is  narrated  in  this  work.  Pelham  is  an 
only  son,  with  an  inherited  position  and  fortune.  His 
father  is  easy  going  and  improvident,  his  mother  shrewd, 
widely  acquainted,  and  worldly  wise.  Her  letters  to  her 
son  abound  in  admonitions  concerning  his  deportment 
and  the  steps  she  deems  essential  to  his  social  success, 
which  is  the  great  object  of  her  ambition.  His  appear- 
ance and  conduct  being  in  accordance  with  her  injunc- 
tions and  ^\^shes,  the  impression  her  son  creates  is  that  of 
a  foppish  man  of  fashion.  But  though  conforming  in  his 
demeanor  to  the  desires  of  Lady  Frances,  Pelham  is  less 
selfish  and  restricted  in  his  sympathies  than  his  mother  *8 
teachings  were  intended  to  make  him.  He  obeys  her, 
but  not  from  the  motives  she  inculcates.  Thus  his 
friendship  with  Glanville  is  the  result  of  sincere  admira- 
tion, and  it  is  only  an  added  satisfaction  that  their  in- 
timacy is  approved  by  her ;  and  his  affection  for  his 
uncle,  who  first  interested  him  in  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  remains  undiminished  despite  the  personal 
disappointment  and  the  material  change  in  prospects 
consequent  upon  the  marriage  of  that  kindly  old  kins- 
man. 

The  characteristics  of  the  work  are  brilliancy,  knowl- 


68  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

edge  of  the  world,  and  new  observations  gathered  from 
experiences  with  many  men  in  various  scenes.  The  fol- 
lies and  negligences  of  the  class  to  which  its  hero  be- 
longs, such  as  the  perfunctory  home  training,  the  mean 
considerations  which  determine  the  choice  of  schools,  the 
unsatisfactory  character  of  the  education  acquired,  the 
pains  and  heartaches  endured  in  the  strife  for  social 
position,  the  trivialities  of  conversation,  and  the  undue 
importance  attached  to  little  things,  have  their  lessons 
compacted  into  aphorisms  or  exposed  by  examples  and 
made  more  effective  by  ridicule  which  generally  sparkles 
but  sometimes  stings,  and  which  does  not  spare  even  the 
hero. 

Pelhani  is  portrayed  as  one  whose  real  ability,  energy, 
and  acquirements  are  less  obvious  than  his  affected  de- 
votion to  fashion  and  effeminate  avoidance  of  exertion. 
The  coxcomb  masks  the  man.  Determined  to  be  more 
than  one  of  the  crowd,  in  whatever  circumstances  he 

j^finds  himself  he  contrives  to  win  admiration.  Thrown 
among  the  frivolous  and  fashionable,  he  shares  their 
follies  while  laughing  at  them;  and  faultless  taste  in 
dress  and  readiness  in  conversation  are  with  him  more 
than  means  to  an  end.  Though  he  deliberately  assumes 
the  demeanor  of  an  exquisite  and  acts  the  part  with 
such  thoroughness  that  to  the  ordinary  and  superficial 
he  appears  an  effeminate  fop,  he  is  careful  that  the  ap- 
parent shall  be  merely  a  part  of  the  man,  and  that  the 
reality  shall  be  a  cultivated  and  experienced  gentleman. 

^Therefore  the  hours  presumably  the  most  idle  are  de- 
voted to  study  and  the  acquirement  of  skill  in  physical 
accomplishments,  and  thus  he  is  equal  to  the  occasion 


PELHAM  69 

when  readiness  and  courage  are  required.  Poetry  has 
little  charm  for  him,  sentiment  none.  He  is  always 
practical,  and  shrewd  as  well  as  observant.  He  never 
gives  confidences.  He  notes  and  avoids  committing  the 
blunders  made  by  able  and  older  men,  and  prepares 
carefully  for  whatever  duty  he  undertakes.  Accepting 
the  forms  and  conventions  of  society  as  settled  institu- 
tions, he  conforms  to  them,  the  while  he  fits  himself  for 
other  circles  by  developing  every  quality  he  is  conscious 
of  possessing,  and  therefore  those  who  took  for  granted 
that  only  a  vacuous  mind  and  nerveless  arm  were  the 
accompaniinents  of  the  listless  exquisite  experience  many 
surprises.  He  is  welcomed  in  social  circles,  his  election 
canvass  is  successful,  his  political  mission  is  satisfactorily 
discharged,  and  it  is  only  when  a  larger  ambition  is  bom 
in  him  that  a  disappointment  is  encountered;  and  this 
disappointment  is  scarcely  a  disadvantage,  for  a  prac- 
tical experience  of  the  insincerity  of  a  professional  pol- 
itician is  a  valuable  lesson  most  useful  when  early 
learned. 

Pelham  proves  by  his  conduct  that  one  may  frequent 
fashionable  circles  and  mingle  with  those  of  the  fine 
world,  and  yet  be  something  better,  wiser,  and  nobler 
than  a  mere  man  of  fashion ;  that  the  well-to-do  are  not 
of  necessity  restricted  to  lives  of  idleness,  shows,  and  com- 
monplace; that  making  the  most  of  one's  physical  self 
may  be  advantageously  supplemented  by  the  cultivation 
of  mental  capacities ;  that  careful  study  of  matters,  men, 
and  books,  useful  activity  and  a  cheerful  disposition, 
are  the  healthy  and  fitting  complements  to  natural  and 
social  advantages ;  and  that  these  enable  their  cultivator, 


70  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

with  greater  ease  and  thoroughness,  to  be  a  true  friend, 
a  useful  citizen,  and  a  good  man. 

That  the  obstacles  to  such  a  consummation  are  neither 
few  nor  slight  is  not  concealed.  The  lack  of  parental 
interest  in  graver  accomplishments  than  such  as  secure 
immediate  effect  or  social  prestige,  the  omissions  of 
teachers  who  too  often  leave  manhood  unprovided  with 
the  taste  for  and  the  disposition  toward  many  of  the 
most  important  pursuits  of  the  cultivated,  the  tempta- 
tion to  idleness,  extravagances,  and  dissipation  which 
surround  the  well-born  young,  are  all  displayed.  But 
the  added  advantages  in  resources  from  ennui  and  in- 
creased power  to  judge  and  decide  rightfully,  to  deal 
with  opposition  and  to  manage  men,  as  well  as  the 
widened  scope  afforded  by  knowledge  mastered,  are  also 
illustrated  in  the  satisfaction,  unaccompanied  by  re- 
pinings  or  self -blame,  with  which  Pelham  meets  disap- 
pointment when  his  hopes  are  overthrown,  and  the  con- 
fidence with  which  he  renews  his  efforts  to  win  an  open- 
ing for  the  vocation  he  has  chosen. 

The  object  of  Pelham 's  ambition  is  not  achieved.    He 

i^aspires  to  a  career  in  parliament.  The  honor  comes 
within  his  reach,  but  he  declines  to  make  the  necessary 
surrender  of  principle  even  in  pretense,  and  the  occasion 
passes.     He  preserves  his  self  respect  but  loses  the  de- 

^sired  dignity.  It  is  curious  how  in  thus  acting  Pelham 
fares  precisely  as  do  nearly  all  the  important  characters 
in  the  long  list  of  Bulwer's  works.  Bach  of  his  heroes 
has  a  definite  creed  and  purpose  to  the  realization  of 
which  he  devotes  himself,  but  the  wished-for  end  is  not 

I  attained.     Thwarted  and  frustrated,  each  is  disappoint- 


PELHAM  71 

ed,  but  the  apparent  failure  is  neither  inglorious  nor  hu- 
miliating. Nay,  it  generally  commands  more  respect 
and  admiration  than  mere  success  would  receive. 

Written  while  the  impressions  of  things  seen  and  re- 
membered were  vivid,  Pelham  is  bright  and  gay,  but  the^ 
exaggeration  necessitated  by  the  aim  to  supplant  *'By- 
ronisra  "by  something  more  manly  has  injuriously  af-  . 
f ected  the  portrayal  of  Glanville.  ^ 

The  union  of  wide  culture  and  useful  activity  with 
the  courteous  deportment,  courage,  and  honor  always 
characteristic  of  the  well-born,  has  become  general  since 
the  creation  of  Pelham,  and  the  invariable  use  of  black 
for  gentlemen's  evening  wear  dates  from  the  publication 
of  this  work,  the  first  edition  of  which  appeared  anony- 
mously in  1828.  Slight  changes  were  made  in  the  sec- 
ond edition  of  the  same  year,  which  contained  a  preface. 
The  edition  of  1840  had  a  second  preface,  and  a  third 
was  added  in  1848.  These  are  all  omitted  in  the  later 
issues  of  the  work. 


THE  DISOWNED 

PELHAM  contained  the  results  of  observations  re- 
corded while  the  impressions  were  fresh,  and  shows 
no  trace  of  the  influence  of  contemporary  writers. 
The  Disowned  has  many  characteristics  of  the  fictions 
current  at  the  time  of  its  production,  and  especially  shows 
the  influence  of  Godwin  in  the  patient  enquiry  into  mo- 
tives and  the  tendency  to  disquisition.  It  has  two  plots, 
intentionally  conducted  apart  until  the  catastrophe  unites 
them,  and  its  characters  exhibit  the  effects  on  conduct 
of  the  undue  development  of  certain  qualities,  which  be- 
come harmful  when  cultivated  to  excess.  Talbot,  Boro- 
daile,  Warner,  Crauford,  Mordaunt,  and  Wolf  are  dom- 
inated rather  than  influenced  by  their  respective  charac- 
teristics of  vanity,  pride,  ambition,  selfishness,  philan- 
thropy, and  zeal,  which  are  the  shaping  forces  of  their 
careers,  and  from  his  observation  of  the  results,  the  value 
of  moderation  is  learned  by  the  high-spirited  Clarence 
who,  disowned  by  his  father,  leaves  home  and  starts  out 
to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world,  relinquishing  even  his 
name.  His  fortunes  occupy  the  larger  part  of  the  work. 
The  reverses  and  vicissitudes  of  Algernon  Mordaunt 
are  the  theme  of  a  second  plot,  less  extensive  but  more 
poignant  than  the  story  of  Clarence.  His  history  is  the 
exposition  of  a  theory  deliberately  cherished  as  the  guid- 
ing principle  of  his  life,  which  regards  ignorance  as 


THE  DISOWNED  73 

identical  with  vice,  knowledge  necessarily  the  way  to 
virtue,  and  virtue  itself  as  so  sovereign  a  condition  that, 
dispensing  with  all  inducements,  it  is  its  own  sufficient 
reward. 

Mordaunt's  creed  was  adopted  by  him  after  deep  en- 
quiry. To  understand  what  is  good  and  what  is  evil  he 
subjected  to  scrutiny  the  writings  of  moralists  and  phil- 
osophers, and  found  that  though  they  dispute  they  grow 
virtuous.  Enquiring  further  into  the  lives  of  men,  he 
discovered  that  while  those  who  cultivated  a  talent  were 
often  erring  and  sometimes  criminal,  those  who  culti- 
vated a  mind  were  rarely  either.  He  concluded  that 
there  must  therefore  be  something  excellent  in  knowl- 
edge. 

Pursuing  his  investigations  into  the  nature  of  virtue, 
he  found  that  it  is  not  religion,  for  bigotry  and  cruelty 
have  often  made  that  powerful  for  evil,  and  a  mere  be- 
lief in  a  divine  Being,  even  with  sincerity  and  zeal  add- 
ed, does  not  ensure  goodness;  for  while  believing  and 
adoring,  many  misunderstand  and  err.  But  fuller 
knowledge  always  lessens  the  liability  to  perversions  of 
this  kind,  which  are  closely  allied  to  ignorance;  and  it 
follows  that  knowledge  is  the  antidote  and  affords  the 
light  by  which  even  religion  should  be  investigated.  For 
as  labor  is  the  salutary  road  to  all  that  is  beneficial,  even 
the  treasures  which  religion  holds  can  only  be  brought 
to  light  by  exercise  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and 
the  training  of  the  perceptive  powers. 

A  survey  of  our  faults,  our  errors,  our  vices,  resolves 
each  into  a  result  of  ignorance.  Men  abuse  talents  and 
riches  and  power  either  from  ignorance  of  their  real  use 


74  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

or  because  they  are  misled  into  imagining  the  abuse  more 
conducive  to  their  happiness.  Men  act  in  accordance 
with  what  they  conceive  to  be  their  interests,  but  be- 
cause of  their  imperfect  knowledge  they  often  err  and 
consequently  suffer.  Mistakenly  also,  men  revert  to 
selfishness,  the  principle  of  barbarism  under  which  force 
is  law,  and  from  which  civilization  is  an  everlengthening 
ascent.  But  were  knowledge  acquired  and  applied, 
nobler  ideas  would  supplant  these  mean  ones.  It  would 
be  realized  that  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  the  one  is 
dependent  upon  the  well-being  of  all.  More  knowledge 
would  cause  better  actions,  and  men  would  advance  in 
happiness  as  well  as  in  culture.  For  if  ignorance  is  the 
spring  and  source  of  evil  and  misery,  it  necessarily  fol- 
lows that  if  we  were  consummate  in  knowledge  we  would 
be  perfect  in  virtue. 

The  conflict  of  character  against  circumstances  has  a 
very  impressive  illustration  in  the  trials  to  which  Mor- 
daunt  is  subjected.  Though  his  feelings  are  acute  and 
his  affection  a  devotion,  neither  misfortune  nor  suffering 
can  shake  his  faith  in  the  all-sufficiency  of  virtue..  He 
endures  privation  and  affliction,  yet  withstands  tempta- 
tion, and  after  his  restoration  to  affluence  the  same  creed 
animates  his  life  and  actions.  But  it  is  perilous  to  es- 
say the  depiction  of  a  character  in  whom  virtue  is  con- 
stant although  youth  and  its  passions  have  not  been  out- 
lived, for  physical  wants  are  more  potent  than  intellec- 
tual concepts ;  and  only  in  the  aged  do  we  recognize  the 
ability  to  act  in  rigid  accordance  with  a  mental  belief. 

The  character  of  Mordaunt  was  a  favorite  with  its  au- 
thor, and  of  this  romance  he  said  in  1835 : 


THE  DISOWNED  75 

"  If  I  were  asked  which  of  my  writings  pleased  me  the 
most  in  its  moral,  —  served  the  best  to  inspire  the 
younger  reader  with  a  guiding  principle,  was  the  one 
best  calculated  to  fit  us  for  the  world  by  raising  us  above 
its  trials,  and  the  one  by  which  I  would  most  desire  my 
own  heart  and  my  own  faith  to  be  judged,  —  I  would 
answer  The  Disowned.^ ^ 

Charactei'«,  incidents,  and  situations  in  The  Disowned 
are  all  by  the  intent  of  their  author  other  than  such  as 
are  met  w4th  in  actual  life.  They  are  possible  but  not 
ordinary,  creations,  not  copies;  and  therefore  the  work 
is  at  once  removed  from  the  class  with  which  it  is  usual- 
ly confounded,  that  of  novels  which  transcribe  from  the 
actual. 

Every  effort  to  exalt  individual  or  social  life  needs 
for  its  purpose  a  high  example  of  actions  indicating  de- 
sirable conduct  and  resulting  in  calm  satisfaction.  The 
tendency  to  limit  endeavor  to  the  merely  being  as  good 
as  others,  is  strong  in  all;  and  nobler  standards  are 
necessary  to  counteract  the  downward  trend  which  is  a 
consequence  of  complacent  contentment  with  an  easy 
achievement.  The  poet  provides  these  higher  types.  He 
sees  more  than  others,  and  reveals  what  but  for  him 
might  never  have  been  perceived.  His  conceptions  of 
noble  behavior,  great  forbearance,  and  worthy  aspira- 
tions made  manifest  in  the  characters  he  creates,  stimu- 
late to  imitation  of  the  virtues  they  display.  Great 
characters  are  to  literature  what  Christ  is  to  Christian- 
ity; and  the  preference  of  transcriptions  of  what  is, 
over  the  poetical  intuition  into  what  should  be,  is  an  error 
as  mischievous  as  that  committed  by  ministers  of  the  gos- 


76  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

pel  who  expatiate  upon  dogma  and  ceremony  rather  than 
upon  the  humility,  gentleness,  sympathy,  and  unselfish- 
ness of  the  Great  Exemplar. 

The  Disowned  is  the  production  of  a  poet,  not  of  a 
journalist.  Nevertheless  none  of  the  vagueness  usual  in 
the  creations  of  allegory  attaches  to  the  personages,  each 
of  whom  is  convincingly  human  and  impressive.  Com- 
pared with  later  works  by  Bulwer,  it  shows  an  over  elab- 
oration of  minor  incidents  and  characters,  an  exuberance 
of  axiomatic  reflection,  and  an  excess  of  disquisition. 

The  first  edition  of  The  Disowned  appeared  anony- 
mously in  1828,  and  a  second  edition  with  a  preface  in 
the  same  year.  Each  of  these  contained  an  introduction 
wherein  Mr.  Pelham  was  interviewed  by  the  author.  In 
1835  this  introduction  was  deleted,  and  a  new  preface 
and  an  essay  on  prose  fiction  were  added.  The  edition 
of  1840  dispensed  with  all  this  prefatory  matter  and 
omitted  many  lengthy  passages  hitherto  contained  in  the 
volumes,  and  the  edition  of  1852  differs  from  its  prede- 
cessor only  in  its  one  short  preface. 


DEVEREUX 

DEVEREUX  is  aii  experiment  having  little  like- 
ness to  productions  of  its  day,  and  none  to  others 
of  Bulwer's  works.  It  uses  history  incidentally 
biit  makes  no  attempt  at  elucidating  the  large  movements 
of  the  time.  It  concerns  itself  with  the  development  of 
the  mind  of  a  man  of  affairs,  who,  seeking  in  action  relief 
from  torturing  perplexities  and  grief,  rises  to  high  posi- 
tion and  honor,  but,  sated  with  successes  which  bring  no 
satisfaction,  abandons  his  career  and  in  loneliness  and 
solitude  seeks  the  solution  of  old  mysteries  and  the  con- 
finnation  of  weakened  hopes. 

It  is  an  autobiography  that  is  submitted  to  us.  The 
style  in  which  it  is  written  bears  no  resemblance  to  that 
of  the  writers  of  his  own  day,  for  circumstances  made 
Devereux  an  exile  for  many  years,  and  therefore  he  never 
acquired  the  mannerisms  characteristic  of  Addison  and 
Steele.  We  are  made  to  feel  that  after  his  brief  wedded 
life  its  writer  is  always  alone,  and  that  the  memory 
of  the  tragedy  which  reft  his  days  of  their  sunshine 
is  tenaciously  nursed  though  never  referred  to.  Un- 
mirthfully  he  moves  through  many  scenes,  participates 
in  events  and  meets  important  persons  who  receive  such 
mention  and  description  as  would  naturally  be  accorded 
them  by  a  shrewd  observer,  and  thus  curious  details  and 
singular  but  accurate  particulars  concerning  the  great  of 


78  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

that  day,  some  of  whom  have  shrunk  from  reputations 
into  mere  names,  add  interest  to  the  work. 

Morton  Devereux  is  revealed  as  possessing  strong  will, 
boundless  energy,  and  warm  affection.  His  childhood 
had  been  embittered  by  his  parents'  preference  for  his 
brothers,  his  boyhood  was  marred  by  fraternal  dissen- 
sions fomented  by  his  tutor  for  ulterior  purposes,  and  he 
entered  the  social  world  prematurely,  without  wise  guid- 
ance, or  any  curb  on  conduct  or  extravagance. 

Growing  weary  of  the  insipidity  and  purposelessness  of 
his  way  of  life,  he  concentrates  all  his  affection  upon  one 
being  and  fancies  happiness  and  contentment  assured, 
but  this  brief  elysian  episode  has  a  tragic  ending  and 
misfortunes  accumulate,  and  as  a  distraction  from  griefs 
and  disappointments  an  active  career  is  sought  and  fol- 
lowed through  turbulent  years  which  bring  renown  and 
advancement  but  not  satisfaction.  In  the  comparative 
calm  which  succeeds  a  period  of  constant  activity,  feel- 
ings hitherto  suppressed  reassert  themselves,  religious 
beliefs  passively  accepted  but  never  examined  are  un- 
settled, and  doubts  arise  to  harass,  and  the  man  who 
though  gaining  much  that  others  prize  has  missed  all  that 
he  himself  desired  and  whose  affections  have  no  object 
among  the  living,  becomes  appalled  at  the  thought  that 
his  hope  of  rejoining  his  lost  wife  beyond  the  grave  may 
be  vain  and  idle,  that  the  creed  which  limits  existence  to 
this  life  only,  may  be  correct.  The  resulting  melancholy 
and  depression  cause  him  to  abandon  the  career  in  which 
he  has  won  distinction  and  to  undertake  the  task  of  re- 
solving his  doubts  by  an  investigation  of  the  works  treat- 
ing of  life  and  its  duration.     In  course  of  time  he  con- 


DBVEREUX  79 

vinces  himself  that  immortality  is  a  fact,  and  his  interest 
in  affairs  revives. 

The  arguments  which  satisfied  this  anxious  doubter  are 
not  made  known  to  us,  for  on  a  matter  where  reasoning 
is  ineffectual  and  faith  alone  is 'of  use,  that  which  con- 
vinces one  may  be  utterly  unsatisfactory  to  another, 
bevereux  was  content  to  know  that  the  dead  do  not  die 
forever,  he  sought  nothing  further;  viewing  everything 
as  a  practical  man  of  the  world  he  continued  his  plans 
for  vengeance  against  his  scheming  enemy  and  having 
compassed  that  duty  his  only  remaining  objects  were  the 
restoration  of  his  ancestral  home  and  the  composition  of 
his  memoirs. 

Devereux  lived  when  Anne  reigned  and  Marlbor- 
ough flourished,  when  the  throne  of  France  was  yet  filled 
by  the  Grand  Monarque,  and  that  of  Russia  by  Peter  the 
Great,  and  though  for  many  years  engaged  in  state  af- 
fairs, on  none  of  these  are  any  particulars  recorded  here, 
only  such  incidents  as  pertain  to  his  individual  and  do- 
mestic history  are  related.  The  sentiments  and  reflec- 
tions are  in  consonance  with  the  experiences,  wise,  acute, 
and  practical. 

The  plot  depends  for  its  main  interest  upon  the  con- 
tinued misconception  of  the  character  of  a  brother. 

Pelham  suggests  the  desirability  of  knowledge  as  an 
addition  to  youth 's  equipment  for  active  participation  in 
life's  business.  The  Disowned  shows  knowledge  as  the 
path  by  which  man  attains  to  virtue  and  contentment. 
Devereux  displays  knowledge  as  the  resolver  of  doubts, 
supporter  of  hopes,  and  extender  of  views.  As  a  com- 
position this  work  is  a  great  advance  over  its  prede- 


80  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

cessors,  but  the  characters  do  not  invite  to  emulation. 
They  interest  greatly  and  are  admirably  managed. 
Montreuil,  whose  resolute  pertinacity  of  purpose  is 
only  discerned  through  the  effects  he  accomplishes  by 
his  controlling  influence  over  others  and  who  is  there- 
fore depicted  at  second  hand,  is  made  to  stand  out  com- 
prehensible, strong  and  virile  to  the  last,  and  Aubrey 
is  so  drawn  as  never  to  arouse  question  or  strain  cre- 
dulity. Sir  Miles  is  an  exceedingly  lovable  old  man 
but  in  illustrating  his  foible  of  always  breaking  off  a 
story  before  its  point  is  reached,  the  author  indulged  in 
what  he  afterwards  condemned  as  an  unworthy  trick. 
Great  care  has  been  bestowed  upon  the  presentation  of 
Bolingbroke,  who  receives  here  a  more  respectful  con- 
sideration than  the  whigs  who  have  written  about  him 
have  manifested.  Bulwer's  high  estimate  of  his  intel- 
lectual ability  never  abated,  and  appreciative  references 
to  him  are  of  frequent  occurrece  in  his  later  works. 

Devereiix,  by  the  author  of  Pelham,  was  published 
by  Colburn  in  1829.  To  the  edition  of  1835  a  dedica- 
tory epistle  to  John  Auldjo  Esq.  was  prefixed  and  in 
1852  a  prefatory  note  was  added. 


PAUL  CLIFFOED 

THIS  work  has  the  historic  interest  which  attaches 
to  ail  impoi'tant  innovation.  It  is  the  forerunner 
oi:  that  class  of  fiction  which  assails  some  existing 
wi'ong  and  by  attracting  attention  thereto  is  instrumental 
in  effecting  reform,  and  which  is  generally  called  the  ro- 
mance of  purpose.  Paul  Cliff ord^  termed  by  its  author 
"a  treatise  on  social  wrongs,"  is  a  forceful  arraignment 
of  the  mismanagement  of  prisons,  and  an  expose  of  the 
evils  consequent  upon  a  too  severe  criminal  code ;  and  the  \ 
book  did  much  toward  securing  amelioration  and  amend- 
ment. 

Productions  of  this  class  necessarily  lose  much  of 
their  interest  when  the  evils  attacked  have  passed  away, 
and  this  work  would  have  shared  the  usual  fate  had  its 
purpose  been  confined  to  temporary  wrongs.  But  it 
also  deals  with  a  deeper  and  sterner  problem  which  is 
not  transient  but  obtrudes  itself  in  every  organized  so- 
ciety, viz:  the  flourishing  of  individuals  who  while  keep- 
ing within  the  law  nevertheless  contrive  by  their  vicious- 
ness  to  be  more  harmful  than  some  of  those  who  break 
the  law  and  do  not  escape  its  vengeance. 

Circumstances  do  not  invariably  make  crime,  but  they 
may  lead  if  not  constrain  to  it  as  in  Paul  Clifford's  case, 
yet  in  intent  and  effect  the  criminal  may  be  a  less  dan- 
gerous person  in  a  community  than  he  who  by  design 
and  act  wars  in  secret  against  all  that  differentiates  civ- 


82  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ilized  life  from  barbarism,  and  not  only  evades  the 
world's  condemnation  but  receives  its  honors,  as  in  the 
instance  of  William  Brandon. 

In  conception,  execution,  and  the  niceties  of  art,  Paul 
Clifford  is  a  remarkable  achievement.  The  story  is  con- 
sistent and  its  conduct  dramatic.  Very  skillfully  are 
small  matters  made  effective  to  the  consummation,  and 
fine  judgment  is  evinced  in  the  selection  of  a  form  of 
criminality  no  longer  practicable,  thereby  avoiding  all 
possibility  of  inducing  imitation  in  incipient  law-break- 
ers. A  further  careful  regard  for  consistency  is  shown 
Tin  dowering  Paul  with  traits  similar  to  those  of  William 
BrandoUj  pride,  scorn  of  conventions,  and  the  meeken- 
ing  effect  of  the  passion  which  weans  him  from  his 
^calling. 

With  the  exception  of  Lucy  Brandon  and  her  father 
the  characters  are  all  perversions.  No  pattern  for  emu- 
lation or  admiration  is  presented,  the  book  concerns  it- 
self with  persons  whose  careers  are  to  be  reprobated  or 
regarded  as  warnings. 

Lucy  Brandon  alone  is  amiable.  She  is  a  retiring  girl 
content  to  make  a  small  circle  happy  until  occasion  de- 
mands other  qualities,  and  then  developing  firmness,  con- 
stancy, and  wisdom  in  the  greatest  trials  to  which  woman 
can  be  subjected,  unexpected  affluence  and  subsequent 
privation. 
/""  The  strongest  character  is  the  able,  unscrupulous,  sue- 
cessf ul  lawyer,  William  Brandon.  Valuing  only  power 
and  station,  and  regarding  appearances  as  of  more  im- 
portance than  actualities,  he  prospers  in  a  world  which  he 
despises,  but  for  whose  forms  he  observes  an  obsequious 


PAUL  CLIFFORD  83 

respect,  by  ministering  to  the  vices  of  others.  His  sins 
are  studied.  His  one  admirable  quality  is  his  tender- 
ness toward  his  relations  which  wins  him  the  affection 
of  his  niece.  But  even  the  reverence  for  his  family, 
which  is  a  virtue,  becomes  in  him  a  further  incentive  to 
vice ;  he  is  anxious  to  dispose  of  Lucy  not  with  the  aim 
of  ensuring  her  happiness,  but  to  further  his  own  rise. 
Superstition  is  made  subtle  use  of  in  the  history  of  his 
successes.  On  his  strong  mind  the  denunciation  of  his 
wife  has  no  apparent  effect,  but  the  maledictions  born 
of  her  wrongs  are  prophetic  and  the  evils  she  invokes  all 
come  to  pass.  And  throughout,  his  illness  and  the 
courage  with  which  he  bears  its  tortures  serve  to  remind 
us  that  it  is  a  man  whose  actions  we  are  surveying,  and 
to  preserve  our  interest  to  the  tragic  close  of  his  evil  life. 

Another  devotee  to  self  is  shown  in  Mauleverer,  the 
sybarite  born  to  wealth  and  power,  viewing  life  as  a  card- 
game,  denying  himself  no  personal  gratification  but  too 
indolent  to  strive  for  anything. 

Augustus  Tomlinson  is  an  instance  of  perverted  and 
misdirected  intellect;  with  him  words  are  of  more  im- 
portance than  deeds,  he  finds  an  equivocal  sanction  for 
behavior  the  most  reprehensible  in  some  sententious 
aphorism  or  approved  sentiment  no  matter  how  much 
ingenuity  be  required  to  bring  act  and  term  into  con- 
gruity. 

Peter  MacGrawler  is  a  composite  portrait  of  the  ed- 
itors and  reviewers  of  the  period,  who  criticised  the 
political  opinions  of  a  writer  rather  than  the  literary 
qualities  of  his  work,  and  made  the  offensive  detraction 
of  opponents  the  road  to  a  minister's  favor  and  an  offi- 


84  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

cial  sinecure.  The  class  may  have  changed  since  Mac- 
Grawler's  time,  but  for  depicting  him  as  unscrupulous, 
malignant,  dishonest,  and  a  coward,  there  was  but  too 
much  justification. 

^  Paul  Clifford  emerges  from  the  wretchedness  of  The 
Mug  where  he  has  received  a  meagre  education  and  an 
initiation  into  flash  life,  by  way  of  the  prison  to  which 
he  is  wrongfully  sent,  where  he  receives  further  vicious 
teaching,  and  from  which  he  makes  his  escape.  Embit- 
tered against  authority  and  ready  to  revenge  himself 
upon  its  representatives,  he  joins  the  highwaymen,  and 
soon  becomes  captain  of  the  band. 

"^  The  activities  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  road  bring  them 
into  the  neighborhood  of  the  home  of  Lucy  Brandon,  and 
Clifford  becomes  acquainted  with  her  and  her  father. 
The  sight  of  their  decorous  and  calm  existence  so  strong- 
ly contrasting  the  turmoil  and  hazard  of  his  own,  and 
the  growth  of  a  pure  affection  disturb  the  satisfaction 
with  which  he  has  hitherto  regarded  his  profession.  He 
resolves  to  sever  his  connection  with  the  robbers  and  seek 
out  some  calling  less  unworthy. 

But  no  evil  course  can  be  abandoned  with  ease,  be- 
fore his  determination  is  acted  upon  he  is  betrayed  and 
apprehended.  Brought  to  trial  he  finds  in  his  judge 
the  man  who  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  driving  him 
into  antagonism  to  law ;  and  that  judge  before  sentencing 
Paul  to  death,  learns  that  the  prisoner  is  his  own  son. 

Paul  however  is  not  given  to  the  hangman,  because  cir- 
cumstances led  him  into  crime,  yet  neither  brutalized 
nor  corrupted  him.  He  is  permitted  to  work  out  his 
self-redemption  in  a  foreign  land. 


PAUL  CLIFFORD  85 

Three  phases  of  life  are  in  turn  depicted  in  Paul 
Clifford:  The  squalor  of  the  slums,  the  comfort  of 
the  unobtrusive  country  home,  and  the  intrigues  and  dis- 
play of  metropolitan  circles.  The  first  of  these  requires 
some  comment.  ~~^ 

The  opening  chapters  deal  with  Dame  Lobkin's  low 
public  house  and  its  environment  and  patrons,  and  this 
portion  of  the  work  is  made  the  occasion  for  a  satirical 
exhibition  of  the  similarity  in  all  essentials  between  the 
low  which  society  scorns  and  the  high  which  it  emulates. 
The  Mug  reflects  Holland  House  with  its  coteries  and 
manufacture  of  reputations.  Bachelor  Bill's  hop  dif- 
fers only  in  degree  from  more  fashionable  gatherings 
and  the  same  desire  for  gain  is  advanced  as  the  ani- 
mating cause  of  the  activities  of  political  placemen  and 
organized  highwaymen.  The  robbers  are  covert  copies 
of  certain  celebrities,  and  a  dexterous  use  is  made  of 
characteristics  of  these  individuals  and  of  incidents  in 
their  careers.  Thus  the  king's  patronage  of  the  archi- 
tect Nash  is  reflected  in  Gentleman  George's  passion 
for  building.  The  promptness,  thoroughness,  and  brev- 
ity of  speech  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  are  imitated 
in  Fighting  Attie.  Lord  Eldon's  attachment  to  old 
forms  and  unrelaxing  opposition  to  all  change  are  trans- 
ferred to  Old  Baggs.  And  peculiarities  in  appearance 
or  conduct  in  Lord  Ellenborough,  Sir  James  Scarlett, 
Sir  Francis  Burdett,  and  others,  find  their  counterfeits 
in  Long  Ned,  Scarlett  Jim,  Mobbing  Francis,  and  the 
minor  satellites  of  the  robber  galaxy. 

Discriminating  characterizations  of  George  the  Fourth 
and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  are  appended  to  Paul  Clif- 


86  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ford^  and  also  a  series  of  papers,  attributed  to  the  later 
years  of  Augustus  Tomlinson;  these  combine  keen  ob- 
servation, close  study  of  men,  suggestive  criticism,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  evidence  a  command  of 
irony  void  of  the  savagery  which  usually  pertains  to 
productions  in  that  line. 

Paul  Clifford  was  published  in  1830,  a  second  edi- 
tion appearing  in  the  same  year.  These  issues  contain- 
ed a  lengthy  dedicatory  epistle  to  Alexander  Cockbum 
which  is  absent  from  all  later  editions.  A  new  preface 
accompanied  the  publication  in  1840,  and  yet  another 
in  1848. 


ASMODEUS  AT  LAEGE 

THIS  work  appeared  anonymously  by  installments 
in  the  New  Monthly  Magazine  during  the  editor- 
ship of  Bulwer,  ending  August,  1833.  Its  author 
never  included  it  in  any  issue  of  his  works,  and  it  had  no 
other  publication  until  the  Kjiebworth  edition  of  1875. 

Intended  to  serve  a  similar  purpose  to  that  of  the 
Noctes  of  Blackwood's  Magazine ^  it  contains  comments 
on  contemporary  happenings,  observations  concerning 
political  measures  and  movements,  remarks  about  men 
eminent  in  their  day,  and  criticisms  on  books  many  of 
which  were  mere  ephemera.  The  narrative  varies  from 
the  gay  and  sportive  to  the  grave  and  supernatural,  but 
even  in  a  slight  and  spontaneous  work  serious  purpose 
is  developed.  To  dispel  the  weariness  which  is  the  mal- 
ady of  the  idle,  Satiety  (the  narrator)  attracted  by 
the  promise  of  Excitement  (Asmodeus)  engages  in  a 
series  of  joumeyings  and  adventures  which  range  from 
the  trivial  to  the  marvelous,  but  have  no  object.  The 
piquancy  of  these  experiences  only  rouses  a  languid  in- 
terest, for  novelty  can  only  temporarily  dissipate  ennui, 
and  a  more  energising  sensation  is  coveted.  Passion 
(Julia)  is  hastily  and  imprudently  substituted  for  the 
less  emotional  influence  of  excitement,  but  the  unreason- 
able exactions  of  a  fastidious  and  selfish  egotist  who 
expects  to  receive  affection  without  deserving  it  causes 


88  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

misery,  results  in  tragedy,  and  adds  remorse  to  mental 
wretchedness;  for  Satiety,  though  ever  longing  for  sym- 
pathic  companionship,  is  fitted  only  for  loneliness. 

The  book  abounds  in  aphoristic  laconisms.  Acute 
criticism,  sarcastic  comment,  mystic  and  supernatural 
speculation  are  conjoined  with  a  fleeting  picture  of  the 
times  and  its  politics ;  and  reflections,  recollections,  and 
anticipations  add  a  personal  interest.  But  the  hurried 
conclusion  necessitated  by  the  author's  retirement  from 
editorship  mars  its  symmetry,  and  the  compression  of 
the  concluding  chapters  contrasts  too  strongly  the  de- 
sultory character  of  the  earlier  portions  of  the  work. 


EUGENE  ARAM 

IN  1759,  an  usher  at  Lynn  was  arrested  charged  with 
a  murder  committed  at  Knareshorough  fourteen 
years  previously.  Eugene  Aram,  thus  brought  into 
painful  notice,  was  a  selftaught  man  of  whom  the  An- 
nual Register  of  that  year  says : 

''After  mastering  all  mathematics,  he  soon  became 
enamoured  of  the  belles-lettres,  whose  charms  destroyed 
the  heavier  beauties  of  numbers  and  lines.  He  after- 
ward got  acquainted  with  heraldry  and  botany,  and 
knew  the  name  and  quality  of  every  herb  of  the  field. 
Being  a  profound  Hebrew  scholar,  he  ventured  upon 
Chaldaic  and  Arabic.  Not  satisfied  with  this  universal 
application,  he  began  the  study  of  Celtic.'* 

Those  who  had  any  knowledge  of  the  man,  whose  ex- 
treme reserve  never  permitted  intimacy,  spoke  of  him 
as  kindly  and  gentle  in  disposition,  and  exemplary  in 
conduct.  The  trial  aroused  the  interest  of  all  England, 
and  incredulity  of  the  possibility  of  his  guilt  was  gen- 
eral. The  principal  testimony  against  him  was  that  of 
a  confessed  accomplice.  Aram  conducted  his  own  de- 
fense. He  was  found  guilty,  sentenced  to  death,  and 
after  unsuccessfully  attempting  selfslaughter,  was  ex- 
ecuted, and  hung  in  chains  in  Knareshorough  forest. 

Bulwer  became  interested  in  the  fate  of  this  singular 
man,  who  had  been  a  tutor  in  his  grandfather's  house 


^0     PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

at  Heydon,  and  the  extraordinary  phenomenon  of  a  sol- 
itary crime  utterly  at  variance  with  the  general  life  and 
seemingly  void  of  influence  upon  the  disposition  of  its 
perpetrator,  combined  with  the  astonishing  attainments 
of  the  unaided  scholar,  furnished  him  with  a  fascinating 
problem.  Gathering  all  the  available  information  about 
the  man  and  his  habits,  the  surviving  gossip  and  opin- 
ions of  those  who  had  met  or  heard  of  him,  and  the 
records  of  the  trial,  and  carefully  considering  the  whole, 
Bulwer's  conclusion  was  that  Aram,  keenly  desirous  of 
means  to  increase  his  knowledge,  and  hampered  by  his 
dire  poverty,  first  envied  the  misused  wealth  of  another 
and  sophistically  persuaded  himself  that  to  appropriate 
some  of  that  wealth  and  apply  it  to  nobler  uses  would 
be  beneficial  rather  than  wrong ;  then  attempted  robbery, 
which  the  resistance  of  his  victim  converted  into  murder. 
Eugene  Aram  Was  written  in  conformity  with  this 
view.  The  personal  traits  are  those  of  the  real  man, 
and  there  is  no  eixaggeration  in  the  account  of  his  at- 
tainments. But  instead  of  the  actual  details  of  his 
occupations  and  actions  the  Lesters  are  created,  and 
an  artistic  condensation  and  elevation  of  the  interest 
and  situations  are  obtained,  as  well  as  a  more  impressive 
and  comprehensive  catastrophe,  and  an  intenser  poign- 
ancy in  the  punishment  of  the  criminal,  who  in  addi- 
tion to  remorse,  is  constrained  to  resort  to  mean  con- 
cealments, evasions,  and  deceptions  exceedingly  humili- 
ating to  his  pride.  No  excuses  for  his  crime  are  ad- 
duced or  permitted  to  influence  sympathy  in  his  behalf. 
Only  the  results  of  the  deed  —  the  destroyed  ambitions, 
the  attainments  rendered  fruitless,  the  enforced  lone- 


EUGENE  ARAM  91 

liness  of  one  who  might  have  become  influential  and 
renowned  —  and  the  ruin  which  overtakes  him  when  he 
seeks  to  rejoin  the  social  life  his  act  has  forever  barred 
him  from.  These  are  allowed  to  arouse  pity,  but  not 
to  palliate  his  offence.  ^ 

He  has  no  animal  friends.  Culture  has  produced  in  j  ^ 
him  an  intellectual  pride,  which  usurps  the  place  of 
moral  principle.  His  courage  is  founded  on  scorn,  his 
charity  on  disdain,  and  his  creed  on  Fatalism.  He  rea-  ^ ^ 
sons  away  the  necessity  of  solitariness,  becomes  inti- 
mate with  his  kind,  and  yields  to  love.  When  all  seems 
most  propitious,  detection  blasts  his  prospects,  and  in- 
volves in  his  doom  all  those  most  dear  to  him. 

The  work  is  a  village  tragedy  in  subject,  conduct,  and 
structure.  It  treats  of  a  known  event,  has  few  char- 
acters, occupies  a  limited  period  of  time,  and  exciting 
alternate  pity  and  terror,  progresses  with  increasing 
rapidity  toward  a  foreknown  culmination.  Its  domes- 
tie  interest  is  supplied  by  Madeline  Lester,  her  home 
and  relations.  It  is  a  subtlety  in  the  art  of  the  book, 
that  she  is  motherless.  Stately,  beautiful,  fanciful,  and 
enthusiastic,  she  diffuses  happiness  around  her,  until 
interest  in  Aram  beguiles  her  into  love  and  peril.  Her 
constancy,  devotion,  and  unswerving  faith  in  her  lover 
never  diminish,  but  her  strength  fails  and  she  dies  be- 
fore Aram. 

Walter  Lester,  supplanted  in  his  cousin's  affections, 
seeks  distraction  in  travel,  attended  by  an  old  soldier 
who  has  condensed  a  varied  experience  of  life  into  world- 
ly rules  of  conduct;  who  regards  successful  knavery 
with  admiration,  and  unselfish  acts  with  scornful  pity. 


^2  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Their  journeyings  are  compelled,  as  if  by  destiny,  to 
the  various  scenes  connected  with  his  father's  history, 
and  to  the  ultimate  discovery  of  his  murder  by  Aram. 
Thus  the  student's  first  step  from  isolation  starts  the 
weaving  of  the  web  which  enmeshes  and  destroys  him. 

This  was  the  author's  first  careful  study  of  a  man. 
Hitherto  his  works  had  their  foundation  in  intimate 
observation  of  and  deductions  from  the  conditions,  in- 
stitutions, and  effects  of  the  social  and  political  ar- 
rangements of  the  English  people,  and  these  had  led  him 
to  recognise  particularly  the  importance  of  .circum- 
«tances  in  the  warping  and  corrupting  of  character. 

Here  he  had  the  problem  of  one  whose  poverty  would 
ordinarily  have  proved  an  insuperable  bar  to  all  mental 
effort,  patiently  and  solitarily  developing  a  mind  of  an 
uncommon  order,  and  mastering  a  wide  range  of  knowl- 
edge, yet  the  whole  resulting  in  no  material  achieve- 
ment, and  ending  in  ignominy  because  of  one  serious 
transgression,  of  which  nothing  in  his  previous  life  in- 
dicated the  possibility,  and  which  was  wholly  without 
effect  upon  his  character.  It  neither  brutalized  nor 
corrupted  him. 

To  show  that  great  learning  and  attainments,  together 
with  conduct  that  conforms  to  the  requirements  of  so- 
ciety, are  not  necessarily  inconsistent  with  criminality 
or  viciousness  was  a  needed  lesson  then,  and  is  in- 
creasingly important  now  since  accomplishments  can  be 
more  easily  acquired,  and  Arams  are  more  numerous. 

There  are  men  who  with  less  thoroughness  cultivate 
not  a  mind,  but  a  style,  and  who  are  vicious  not  in  iso- 
lated  cases,   but  habitually.     In   these   the  prevailing 


EUGENE  ARAM  9^ 

characteristic  is  that  same  intellectual  pride,  subordinat- 
ing principle  and  expanding  egotism  to  undue  propor- 
tions.    They  are  incipient  Arams. 

To  warn  mankind  that  character  is  of  greater  con- 
sequence than  -talent,  and  that  those  who  neglect  moral 
cultivation  while  improving  less  necessary  qualities 
are  in  all  essentials  committing  the  error  from  which 
Eugene  Aram's  crime  resulted,  is  to  draw  attention  to 
a  fact  not  the  less  important  from  the  certainty  of  its 
being  resented  by  those  to  whom  it  most  directlj^  applies.. 

This  romance  was  dedicated  to  Walter  Scott,  then 
on  his  futile  journey  in  search  of  health  in  Italy.  The 
following  letter  from  Rome  dated  October  22,  1832,  and 
published  in  the  Literary  Gazette,  gives  Scott's  impres- 
sions of  the  work  and  its  author: 

''When  Sir  Walter  Scott  arrived  at  Rome  he  asked 
me  for  a  book.  I  enumerated  the  few  I  had  got,  and 
he  immediately  pitched  upon  something  by  the  Author 
of  Pelham.  I  accordingly  sent  him  Eugene  Aram,  which 
he  returned  me  in  a  very  few  days,  saying  that  since 
he  left  England  he  had  not  enjoyed  so  much  amuse- 
ment. He  talked  a  long  time  about  Bulwer  and  his  pro- 
ductions; and  I  sincerely  regret  not  having  made  a 
minute  of  his  remarks.  I  recollect,  however,  distinctly 
his  saying  '  Oh !  that  is  a  man  whose  name  always  puts 
me  in  mind  that  I  must  look  about  me.'  And  after  ex- 
pressing his  high  approbation  of  the  tale  he  had  just 
been  reading,  he  added,  *I  can  scarcely  conceive  a 
greater  proof  of  talent  than  this,  that  a  writer  should 
take  for  his  subject  a  story  known  well  to  almost  every- 
one of  his  readers,  and  that  he  should  be  able  to  work 


94  PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

it  up  in  so  artful  a  manner  as  to  produce  such  intense 
interest.  For  this/  he  said,  laughing,  4s  the  fault  of 
the  book.  I  read  late  —  I  could  not  lay  it  down,  and 
twice  it  has  spoiled  my  night's  rest.'  " 

The  first  edition  of  Eugene  Aram  was  published  in 
1831.  To  the  issues  of  1840  another  preface  was  added, 
and  a  third  preface  accompanied  the  edition  of  1850. 


GODOLPHIN 

WHILE  engaged  on  Eugene  Aram  Bulwer  also 
wrote  Godolphiny  the  composition  of  the  two 
works  proceeding  concurrently.  This  lighter  la- 
bor has  for  its  subject  a  like  theme:  the  frustration  of 
possibilities  of  usefulness  in  an  individual  of  great  prom- 
ise. In  Aram  a  crime  blasted  a  career.  Here  the  absence 
of  incentive,  the  possession  of  wealth,  and  the  temptations 
natural  to  the  life  of  the  well-born  rich,  cause  abilities 
and  endowments  to  be  frittered  away  and  wasted. 

The  period  illustrated  is  that  of  the  passing  of  the 
Reform  Bill  of  1831,  which  transferred  political  power 
from  the  higher  to  the  middle  classes.  It  is  therefore 
a  former  fashionable  world  which  is  pictured  and 
shown  as  void  of  healthful  ambition,  moral  purpose,  or 
enthusiasm,  and  as  exercising  a  pernicious  influence 
over  the  more  gifted  of  both  sexes. 

The  best  parts  of  the  work  are  those  which  depict 
that  silken  circle  of  fashion  with  its  puerilities  and  en- 
nui, its  graceful  luxury,  its  polish,  its  heartlessness, 
its  unenjoyed  amusements,  and  its  avidity  for  anything 
novel  which  promises  a  new  sensation.  And  the  most 
masterly  character  is  that  of  Saville,  the  urbane, 
shrewd,  and  favored  man  of  the  world,  who  with  intel- 
lect but  without  heart,  passion  without  affection,  and 
wealth    without    sympathy,    finds   there   congenial    en- 


96  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

viromnent.  Godless  and  creedless  as  some  antique 
pagan,  he  avails  himself  of  every  opportunity  for  self- 
indulgence  even  to  life's  last  hour,  and  dies,  like  the 
order  he  represented,  selfpossessed  and  imperturbable, 
satisfied  with  his  past  and  unconcerned  about  his 
future. 

Godolphin  is  young,  gifted,  and  fortunate.  His  abili- 
ties directed  to  useful  ends  might  make  him  a  benefac- 
tor to  his  race,  but  his  early  entrance  into  the  world  of 
the  privileged  and  his  acquaintance  with  its  idols  wean 
him  from  all  desire  for  honor  or  dignity.  He  has  the 
common  experiences  of  his  class  —  pleasure  and  travel. 
Without  being  vicious,  but  because  he  is  unambitious, 
fastidious,  and  procrastinating,  he  neither  develops  his 
own  capacities  nor  accomplishes  anything  meritorious; 
The  rejection  of  his  hand  by  Constance  crushes  his 
vanity  without  spurring  him  to  any  worthy  exertion; 
inherited  wealth  only  makes  him  a  grandiose  dilettante 
and  patron  of  art.  And  he  incurs  the  mischief  of  caus- 
ing injury  to  those  who  become  interested  in  him. 
Temptation,  dallied  with  but  not  resolutely  resisted, 
leads  to  the  destruction  of  the  daughter  of  him  whom 
he  had  called  friend.  Idle  and  purposeless,  his  grace- 
ful accomplishments  and  profuse  use  of  wealth  win  ad- 
miration and  regard  in  abundant  measure,  without  the 
animosity  which  usually  results  from  successful  com- 
petition for  fame  or  power. 

Like  many  of  his  class  he  inspires  sanguine  expecta- 
tions which  are  never  realized.  With  ample  equip- 
ments for  high  station,  he  becomes  the  oracle  of  a  small 
cotMe,  and  dawdles  through  life  shirking  its  duties, 


GODOLPHIN  97 

leaving  to  less  enervate  men  the  nobler  positions  it 
should  have  been  his  ambition  to  fill. 

The  history  of  Constance  shows  the  powerlessness  of 
the  woman  who  seeks  to  be  active  and  influential  in  the 
world.  She  finds  that  civilized  life  affords  only  a  con- 
ditional opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  feminine  ability. 
In  furtherance  of  a  husband's  ambition  she  may  dis- 
play her  genius  for  intrigue,  but  when  husband  and 
wife  regard  measures  differently  the  wife  must  sacri- 
fice either  her  views  or  her  happiness.  Alone  she  can 
accomplish  nothing  of  importance. 

Bulwer  repeatedly  found  fault  with  the  forms  and 
customs  which  limited  to  inanities  the  education  and  in- 
fluence of  women.  That  many  restrictions  which  for- 
merly existed  have  been  removed,  is  to  some  extent  at- 
tributable to  his  advocacy  of  greater  liberality  in  these 
matters. 

Volktman,  the  devotee  of  astrology,  whose  severe 
and  exhausting  studies  are  rewarded  in  minor  matters 
with  equivocal  successes,  but  in  the  things  about  which 
he  is  most  anxious  only  arouse  indefinite  and  perturb- 
ing fears,  in  his  unworldly  theories,  gentleness  and 
faith,  is  an  attractive  study;  and  his  daughter,  whose 
wayward  impulsiveness  makes  her  a  victim  of  unselfish 
affection,  a  sad  one.  Her  letter  written  to  Godolphin 
after  the  discovery  which  leaves  her  humiliated  and 
hopeless,  is  a  touching  combination  of  pathos  and  pride. 

An  incidental  purpose  of  Godolphin  was  to  test  con- 
temporary criticism.  Therefore  it  was  published  anony- 
mously. It  fulfilled  Bulwer 's  expectation  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  gave  a  basis  for  an  ever  increasing  contempt 


98  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

for  professional  book  reviewals,  for  no  one  discerned 
the  authorship.  Some  ascribed  it  to  Godwin,  others  saw 
superiority  over  Bulwer  in  ''the  author  of  Godolphin.' ' 
One,  after  declaring  that  "his  novels  are  all  echoes  of 
each  other  with  hardly  a  page  which  might  not  be  known 
for  his,  nor  a  favorite  character  which  is  not  an  exhi- 
bition of  one  of  the  phases  of  his  exquisite  self,"  adds 
that  "the  writer  of  Godolphin  equals  him  in  energy." 
This  desire  to  see  if  the  reviewers  were  as  discern- 
ing as  they  professed  to  be  caused  the  intentional  disre- 
gard of  certain  rules  of  art,  from  an  observance  of 
which  in  no  other  instance  did  Bulwer  swerve.  The 
end  of  Vernon  is  reminiscent  of  Sheridan's  death. 
Constance  recalls  the  three  grand  dames  of  the  day  who 
were  active  political  partisans:  Lady  Jersey,  Lady 
Holland,  and  Lady  Blessington ;  and  in  the  original  issue 
there  figured  Lord  Saltream,  who  was  undoubtedly  sug- 
gested by  John  Ward,  Lord  Dudley.  Gamester  and  epi- 
curean were  combined  in  Lord  Henry  de  Ros,  who  how- 
ever lacked  the  discretion  which  is  so  emphatic  a  quality 
in  Saville,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  unproductive 
abilities  of  Count  D'Orsay  suggested  the  creation  of 
Godolphin,  tho'  there  is  no  further  resemblance  between 
them  than  the  possession  of  fine  qualities  and  the  simi- 
larity of  their  surroundings.  It  is  a  sin  in  art  to  copy 
from  some  original  peculiarities  which  admit  of  identifi- 
cation; for  characters  should  be  creations,  and  if  tran- 
scription is  all  that  has  been  accomplished  the  achieve- 
ment amounts  to  little ;  while  if  a  personage  in  an  imagin- 
ative work  is  not  copied,  yet  is  so  described  that  a  like- 
ness to  some  known  person  is  perceived,  it  stamps  the 


GODOLPHIN  99 

author  as  commonplace  both  in  art  and  imagination,  be- 
cause art  concerns  itself  with  the  enduring,  and  per- 
sonal oddities  and  peculiarities  are  of  all  things  the  most 
transient.  The  imagination  is  meagre  and  limited  if  it 
cannot  rise  above  the  actual. 

Before  Bulwer  added  Godolphin  to  the  list  of  his  works 
in  1842,  he  expunged  everything  pertaining  to  Saltream, 
and  much  other  matter.  But  an  unremoved  fault  re- 
mains, and  detracts  from  the  value  of  the  work.  That 
is,  the  admission  of  accident  as  a  factor  of  importance. 
The  catastrophe  in  fiction  should  result  naturally  from 
the  events  and  circumstances  narrated  and  described,  and 
have  the  seeming  of  inevitability.  The  manner  of  Godol- 
phin's  death  has  no  necessary  connection  with  the  chain 
of  events  preceding  it.  It  is  an  arbitrarily  introduced 
incident  for  which  little  preparation  is  made.  It  as- 
sisted in  accomplishing  the  secondary  purpose  of  demon- 
strating the  deficiencies  of  the  critics,  but  this  trivial 
end  necessitated  a  permanent  injury ;  and  the  gain  was 
not  worth  the  sacrifice. 

Less  powerful  and  artistic  than  Eugene  Aram,  the 
work  depends  on  its  faithful  delineation  of  a  phase  of 
contemporary  life  for  its  interest,  and  on  style  for  its  at- 
traction. 

Godolphin  was  published  anonymously  in  1833,  a  sec- 
ond edition  appearing  in  the  same  year.  The  prefaces  to 
these  issues  and  many  pages  of  the  narrative  were  de- 
leted when  the  work  with  a  new  preface  and  dedicated 
to  Count  D'Orsay  was  added  to  the  collected  edition  of 
1842. 


THE  PILGEIMS  OF  THE  EHINE 

THE  comparison  of  life  to  a  river  is  old,  and  the  cy- 
clonic wind-storms  which  ever  and  again  visit  cer- 
tain portions  of  the  earth,  wrecking,  devastating, 
and  working  fantastic  mischief,  have  a  more  discernable 
likeness  to  some  lives  than  the  stream  which  beautifies, 
nourishes,  and  is  useful.  The  tiny  beginnings,  the  in- 
crease and  growth  in  proportion  and  power,  the  resistless 
progression  toward  the  great  deeps  and  the  persistence  of 
identity  notwithstanding  continuous  change  which  char- 
acterize alike  the  lapsing  water  and  the  unhalting  life, 
are  obvious  resemblances.  There  are  other  similarities. 
The  river  obeying  the  law  which  prescribes  a  straight 
line  for  its  course  is  constrained  into  sinuous  meander- 
ings  because  of  the  impediments  it  encounters,  and  the 
careers  of  those  who  purposefully  endeavor  to  act  in  con- 
formity with  a  creed  are  made  picturesque  and  interest- 
ing by  the  interferences  which  swerve  them  into  chan- 
nels of  less  resistance ;  and  these  obstructions  constitute 
the  memorable  features  when  the  completed  journey  is 
surveyed. 

In  The  Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine  the  scenery,  legends,  and 
romances  of  Europe's  most  majestic  river  are  associated 
with  the  passing  away  of  an  innocent  and  beautiful 
maiden. 

The  protracted  ordeal  of  living  wherein  acts,  thoughts. 


THE  PILGRIMS  OF  THE  RHINE  101 

and  aspirations  are  chastened  and  disciplined,  is  crowd- 
ed with  trials  and  disappointments,  and  those  deemed 
fitted  for  higher  progression  without  the  reiterated  cor- 
rections necessary  for  most  of  the  children  of  men  are 
the  objects  of  a  benevolent  preference.  But  the  mercy 
of  the  Compassionate  One  who  forbears  to  inflict  the 
full  measure  of  life's  multitudinous  sadnesses  and  per- 
mits His  dark  servant  to  remove  the  young  to  a  world 
where  hopes  cannot  be  blighted  nor  prospects  dimmed, 
is  with  difficulty  discerned  by  the  bereaved.  Faith  and 
philosophy  are  both  severely  tasked  before  apparent 
cruelty  is  recognized  as  kindness,  and  belief  in  infinite 
good  produces  resignation  to  a  finite  ill;  for  their  be- 
loved ones  are  gone  from  them  even  if  the  loss  in  the 
transient  here  is  a  gain  in  the  enduring  there. 

This  view  of  the  most  melancholy  of  human  experi- 
ences pervades  The  Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine,  and  preserves 
its  narrative  from  all  depressing  gloom  and  mournful- 
ness. 

On  Gertrude  Vane  the  most  insidious  and  deceptive  of 
human  maladies  has  set  its  seal.  The  physicians  have 
ordered  change  of  air,  and  to  gratify  her  desire  to  visit 
Germany,  her  father  and  her  betrothed  accompany  her 
in  a  journey  up  the  Rhine. 

A  fairy  queen  and  her  court  affected  by  the  devotion 
of  the  lovers,  and  desiring  that  the  remaining  days  of 
the  maiden  may  at  least  neighbor  the  fairyland  which  is 
left  behind  with  youth,  and  wishful  to  be  of  service  to 
her,  make  the  same  pilgrimage  and  incidentally  meet 
with  and  are  entertained  by  the  German  varieties  of  their 
kind. 


102  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Ideas  suggested  by  the  places  visited,  their  historical 
associations  and  vicissitudes,  are  discussed  from  time  to 
time,  and  the  varying  scenes  and  cities  are  described. 
It  is  the  general  and  impressive  features  to  which  atten- 
tion is  directed.  The  particulars  never  degenerate  into 
inventories.  At  intervals  tales  are  told,  which  attract 
Gertrude's  attention  from  her  condition  by  interesting 
her  in  the  fate  of  others.  These  stories  show  the  changes 
and  disillusionings  which  time  brings  about,  oppose  the 
harsh  and  commonplace  to  youth 's  sanguine  anticipatory  | 
dreams,  and  are  effective  in  reconciling  Gertrude  to  the/ 
relinquishing  of  desire  for  experience  in  the  troublous 
actual  world. 

Each  tale  strips  from  the  future  some  fancied  glory. 
Man's  love  is  unstable  and  changes  with  circumstances, 
affection  the  most  fervent  rarely  outlasts  the  year,  rival- 
ry estranges  brothers,  ambition  supplants  affection  and 
exacts  greater  sacrifices.  The  purest  love  is  least  com- 
prehended, and  dreams  are  far  more  fair  than  actualities. 

These  stories  illustrate  the  different  phases  of  German 
literary  activity.  They  are  admirable  specimens  of  the 
domestic,  the  philosophical,  the  chivalrous,  the  poetic, 
the  daring,  the  weird,  and  the  fabulous.  The  most  sug- 
gestive and  thoughtful  is  '  *  The  Fallen  Star, ' '  which  deals 
with  that  remote  past  when  antiquity  was  young. 

The  incidents  of  the  journey  deepen  the  despondency 
of  the  father,  whom  previous  calamities  have  schooled 
into  resignation.  They  rouse  a  vain  rebellion  against 
fate  in  the  lover.  They  soothe  and  encourage  Gertrude 
to  put  aside  considerations  of  earth,  and  welcome  the 
nearness  of  heaven,  whence  she  may  watch  and  perhaps 


THE  PILGRIMS  OF  THE  RHINE  103 

influence  those  dear  to  her.  For  a  time  she  seems  to 
rally.  Her  companions  are  gladdened  by  the  improve- 
ment in  her  condition,  and  hopes  of  her  gradual  restora- 
tion to  health  are  indulged ;  but  these  anticipations  are 
soon  dampened.  Her  strength  fails  rapidly.  At  Hei- 
delberg the  pilgrimage  ends  with  her  burial,  in  a  spot 
selected  by  herself. 

Although  this  work  is  used  satisfactorily  as  a  guide 
book,  Bulwer  had  not  seen  the  Rhine  when  he  composed 
it.  The  first  edition  was  accompanied  by  elaborate  steel 
engravings  which  required  two  years  for  their  execu- 
tion.    Written  in  1832,  it  was  published  in  1834. 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII 

DURING  Bulwer's  first  visit  to  Italy  in  1833  he  re- 
sided for  some  months  at  Naples,  and  made  fre- 
quent visits  to  Pompeii.  The  character  and  hab- 
its of  its  former  citizens  as  disclosed  by  the  excavations, 
and  interesting  discoveries  and  observations  made  in  its 
streets  and  houses  furnished  the  material  for  this  ro- 
mance. Twenty  bodies  were  uncovered  in  the  cellars  of 
one  villa,  three  more  in  the  near  neighborhood,  and  a 
skull,  which  is  now  at  Knebworth,  of  such  remarkable 
conformation  as  to  indicate  unusual  power  in  the  original 
possessor.  These  remains  and  the  positions  in  which  they 
were  found  suggested  the  figures  of  Arbaces,  Calenus, 
Burbo,  Julia,  Clodius,  and  Diomed,  and  the  chance  re- 
mark that  because  of  the  darkness  which  accompanied 
the  destroying  eruption  the  blind  would  have  an  advan- 
tage suggested  the  creation  of  Nydia.  The  artist  evoked 
the  shades  of  the  dead  of  twenty  centuries  ago,  re-ani- 
mated the  several  forms,  and  caused  them  to  re-live  their 
last  days  in  Pompeii. 

Pompeii  existed  without  giving  occasion  for  reference 
or  remark  from  its  foundation  by  Hercules  until  A.  D. 
63.  In  that  year  it  suffered  grievous  injury  from  an 
earthquake  and  the  restoration  of  its  important  build- 
ings had  been  but  partially  effected  when  in  79  an  erup- 
tion of  Vesuvius  destroyed  the  town  and  buried  it  under 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII  105 

ashes  from  which  only  a  fragment  of  the  wall  of  the 
larger  theatre  protruded.  Now  and  again  as  the  sixteen 
succeeding  centuries  lapsed,  a  peasant  would  have  his 
wonder  aroused  by  the  striking  of  his  mattock  against 
some  portion  of  the  skeleton  of  the  buried  city,  but  not 
until  1748  was  serious  attention  given  to  the  excavating 
of  what  was  soon  identified  as  the  forgotten  Pompeii. 
Once  begun  the  discoveries  were  so  remarkable  that  the 
operations  were  extended  and  gradually  a  Roman  city 
in  its  pristine  state  was  disinterred  and  restored  to  light. 

The  excavations  in  the  labyrinth  of  ruins  which  are 
the  existing  evidence  of  what  Pompeii  was,  have  revealed 
enough  to  enable  investigators  to  reconstruct  its  streets, 
its  temples  and  its  homes,  to  understand  its  social  organ- 
ization, and  to  realize  the  distinctive  habits,  dress,  and 
customs  of  its  inhabitants. 

A  seaport  of  thirty  thousand  people,  its  citizens  were 
of  many  races,  and  Grecian  and  Egyptian  influences 
were  potent  to  a  greater  extent  than  in  the  seven  hilled 
city.  Its  position  on  a  rising  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Naples, 
girdled  by  the  mountains,  yet  open  to  the  sea  breezes, 
made  it  an  attractive  summer  resort  for  the  wealthy. 

In  that  miniature  Rome  the  idle  and  pleasure  loving 
gathered,  and  combined  luxury,  learning,  scepticism,  and 
ostentation  with  grace  and  gaiety.  Civilization  was 
neighbored  by  barbarism,  the  beautiful  temples  were 
seats  of  jugglery,  men  fought  with  beasts  in  the  arena, 
faith  in  the  gods  had  vanished,  and  sorcery  flourished. 

Because  of  its  incorporation  in  the  world-empire  of 
Rome  and  its  nearness  to  the  Imperial  city,  Pompeii 
neither  produced  nor  retained  any  great  exemplars  of 


106  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

patriotism,  art,  or  thought.  Therefore  the  romance  is 
constructed  of  the  simplest  materials.  An  urbane,  cul- 
tured, careless,  and  joyous  community  is  portrayed  as 
animated  by  the  passions,  feelings,  and  desires  common 
to  all  humanity.  Love,  jealousy,  rivalry,  intrigue,  hate, 
and  revenge  sway  the  conduct  of  the  characters,  who  are 
enduring  varieties  of  human  nature  exhibited  in  an  an- 
tique garb.  The  costumes,  customs,  and  social  forms  have 
changed  with  time,  but  the  elemental  passions  are  eternal, 
varying  but  little  in  their  expression,  not  at  all  in  their 
strength,  influence,  or  effects. 

The  story  opens  in  light-hearted  joyousness,  with  a 
meeting  of  well-to-do  young  men  with  whom  pleasure  is 
the  only  pursuit.  It  becomes  more  earnest  with  the  in- 
troduction of  lone,  more  active  with  the  rescue  of  Nydia, 
and  more  sinister  when  Arbaces  appears.  The  serious- 
ness increases  in  the  interviews  with  Apaecides  and  Olin- 
thus  and  the  gaiety  ends  with  the  noonday  excursion  on 
the  water.  Gloom  begins  with  the  curse  of  the  Saga  of 
Vesuvius,  deepens  rapidly  with  the  death  of  Apaecides, 
the  arrest  of  Glaucus,  and  the  immuring  of  Nydia,  be- 
comes intense  in  the  amphitheatre,  and  terrible  when  the 
eruption  darkens,  covers,  and  destroys.  And  at  inter- 
vals the  chant  of  the  girl  eager  for  the  show,  the  warning 
hymn  of  the  Nazarenes  and  the  epicurean  song  of  the 
revelers,  significantly  interrupt  the  action  by  revealing 
characteristic  differences  in  the  disposition  of  the  popula- 
tion—  the  first  thoughtless,  careless,  cruel,  the  second 
austere,  earnest,  and  denunciatory,  the  third  resolved  on 
pleasure,  doubtful  of  its  propriety,  and  distorting  wis- 
dom into  approval  and  advocacy. 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII  107 

The  men  and  women  who  act  and  suffer  are  such  as 
are  natural  to  the  place  and  time,  and  to  that  phase  of 
luxurious  leisure  to  which  the  situation  and  climate  of 
Pompeii  conduced  and  allured. 

There  is  no  introduction  of  superfluous  antiquarian  or 
archaeological  details.  The  customs  at  banquets,  the 
funeral  ceremonies,  the  elaborate  routine  of  the  baths, 
and  the  varieties  of  the  gladiatorial  exercises  are  de- 
scribed, but  the  occasion  for  depicting  them  arises  nat- 
urally in  the  progress  of  the  story.  Knowledge  is  not 
paraded. 

Incidentally  also  certain  similarities  and  singular  dif-  \ 
ferences  between  the  present  inhabitants  of  the  district  \ 
and  their  predecessors  are  noted.  The  curiosity,  laziness, 
and  fondness  for  the  recitations  of  the  improvisatores  is 
the  same  now  as  then,  but  the  former  appreciation  of 
flowers,  perfumes,  and  baths  has  been  replaced  by  some- 
thing like  aversion. 

Social  conditions  are  depicted  with  all  possible  fair- 
ness, without  any  attempt  to  convey  false  impressions  of 
the  relative  morality,  well-being,  or  organization  of  their 
times  and  ours,  or  to  deduce  from  what  is  the  equivalent 
of  a  palimpsest  disingenuous  criticisms  of  the  present 
order  of  things.  Then,  as  now,  it  is  shown  that  the  lot 
of  the  poor  was  one  of  hardship,  that  priests  were  venal 
and  religion  often  a  cloak  for  wrong-doers,  that  office- 
holders cared  more  for  popularity  than  for  principles, 
and  that  the  rich  monopolized  power  and  abused  the 
forms  of  law,  yet  evaded  its  penalties.  The  very  meager 
alteration  for  the  better  in  the  circumstances  of  the  work- 
er is  indeed  the  most  salient  lesson  of  the  book,  for  the 


108  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

slow  evolution  of  a  middle  class  which  has  devoted  its  en-,' 
ergies  to  pulling  down  those  above  and  shown  no  earnest 
desire  to  elevate  those  below,  is  the  most  conspicuous 
achievement  of  the  intervening  centuries.  That  fact 
demonstrates  the  unimportance  of  changes  in  the  forms 
of  government,  and  suggests  the  superior  possibilities  of 
developing  virtues  and  qualities  in  the  individual  and 
the  race,  as  effective  aids  to  progress. 

As  a  story  illustrative  of  a  past  era  the  work  has  merits 
of  a  very  high  order.  It  avoids  artificiality,  it  is  correct 
in  details,  its  varied  incidents  are  in  harmony  with  the 
period  and  the  characters,  and  succeed  each  other  nat- 
urally. The  intensity  of  the  interest  excited  increases  as 
the  narrative  approaches  its  catastrophe,  and  that  awful 
event  which  involved  in  one  common  ruin  the  good,  the 
villainous,  the  wealthy,  and  the  miserable,  and  displayed 
the  disregard  which  that  force  we  call  Nature  endlessly 
manifests  for  our  mutable  distinctions,  is  forcefully  and 
vividly  described. 

Its  characters,  however,  are  of  a  lower  intellectual 
order  than  those  of  other  of  its  author's  productions, 
and  the  emotions  aroused  are  generally  of  a  less  noble 
nature  than  usual,  being  physical  appeals,  rather  than 
mental  or  moral. 

In  the  construction  of  plot  and  the  invention  of  inter- 
esting incidents,  situations,  and  characters,  it  is  an  ad- 
vance on  previous  work,  but  not  in  the  quality  of  the  in- 
terest. The  emotions  addressed  are  such  as  everyone 
easily  responds  to.  There  is  no  demand  for  discernment 
or  meditation. 
I  The  most  intellectual  of  the  characters  is  Arbaces,  who 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII  109 

1  makes  knowledge  subservient  to  the  practices  of  the  sty, 
\  proud  of  his  superiority  of  race  and  in  learning,  making 
a  power  of  his  influence,  defaming  all  creeds,  but  believ- 
;  ing  that  the  stars  can  warn,  advise,  and  guide,  constru- 
I  ing  their  signs  into  favoring  prophecies,  yet  in  his  end 
'  verifying  the  prediction  he  misinterpreted. 
;     Glaucus  the  Athenian,  generous,  graceful,  and  exuber- 
ant, is  plunged  from  the  heights  of  assured  felicity  to  the 
lawful  prospects  of  death  in  the  arena,  but  sustains  his 
natural  nobility.     He  regards  shame  less  as  the  loss  of 
the  good  opinion  of  others  than  the  forfeiture  of  his  own, 
refuses  freedom  at  the  price  of  baseness,  and  declines  to 
adopt  a  faith  to  which  he  is  favorably  disposed,  because 
he  would  not  even  appear  to  act  for  a  reward. 

Culture  and  beauty  present  their  loveliest  combination 
in  the  noble-minded,  dignified,  and  calm  lone. 

Olinthus  is  a  type  of  the  early  propagators  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  his  ardor  for  proselytizing,  his  intolerance 
of  other  creeds,  his  impatience  with  compromise,  as  well 
as  his  scorn  of  danger,  hardship,  or  death,  are  the  neces- 
sary qualities  of  the  founders  of  a  creed. 

Sallust,  the  goodnatured  voluptuary,  justifies  the  opin- 
ion of  Glaucus  that  he  had  more  heart  than  any  of  his 
companions,  and  also  his  own  confession  of  the  superior 
claims  of  appetite  to  friendship,  for  when  after  an  al- 
most fatal  neglect  he  does  act,  it  is  swiftly,  comprehen- 
sively, and  with  effect. 

The  several  gladiators  are  finely  discriminated,  and 
the  interest  aroused  for  them  becomes  poignant  in  the 
case  of  young  Lydon. 

The  most  interesting  character  is  Nydia,  the  blind 


110  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

flower  girl,  whose  songs  express  the  watchful  tenderness 
with  which  she  regards  her  wares,  and  her  fond  fancy 
that  they  possess  something  akin  to  human  feeling.  Her 
presence  brightens  the  places  she  visits  like  the  sunshine 
of  her  native  land,  and  when  she  moves  away  air  and 
scene  appear  to  lose  their  glory  and  lapse  into  their  cus- 
tomary commonplace.  An  orphan  and  an  exile,  blind 
and  a  slave,  unforgetful  of  the  legend-haunted  land 
whence  she  was  stolen,  and  wistfully  remembering  the 
mother  whose  gentle  care  she  misses  and  pines  for; 
fragile  and  delicate,  yet  beaten  and  humiliated  by  the 
pitiless  taskmasters  whose  greed  and  cruelty  are  insati- 
able, released  from  their  brutality  by  Glaucus  only  to 
exchange  physical  suffering  for  mental  anguish;  having 
the  desires,  feelings,  and  devotion  of  the  womanhood 
into  which  she  is  just  emerging,  yet  retaining  the  im- 
pulsiveness, petulance,  and  cunning  of  the  girl,  she 
dares  much  to  win  the  affection  of  her  deliverer,  who  re- 
gards her  as  a  child  and  never  discerns  her  love.  She 
dares  more  in  generous  devotion,  and  saves  him  who  was 
more  to  her  than  the  gods  had  been  —  a  friend ;  and  then 
seeks  refuge  from  hopelessness  in  the  calm  of  the  waters. 

The  story  excites  and  maintains  interest.  The  charac- 
ters are  apprehensible  and  distinctly  differentiated,  and 
the  incidents  are  impressive.  The  attention  is  engaged 
without  thought  being  stimulated  and,  therefore,  the 
work  charms  all  readers  and  is  the  best  known  of  Bul- 
wer  's  romances. 

The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii  was  composed  during  one 
of  the  attacks  of  intense  depression  to  which  its  author 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII  111 

was  subject.  In  3-833  failing  health  necessitated  rest 
and  change  and  Bulwer  was  induced  to  visit  Italy.  No 
physical  benefit  resulted,  but  his  fame  was  extended  by 
this  work  which  was  published  in  1835. 


EIENZI 

THE  verdict  of  the  historians  who  after  a  superfi- 
cial survey  of  the  career  and  fate  of  a  remarkable 
man  had  pronounced  a  harsh  and  unfavorable 
judgment  on  Rienzi  was  set  aside  as  one  result  of  the  pro- 
duction of  this  romance,  wherein  the  great  Tribune  was 
presented  as  he  was  in  life,  no  faultless  man,  but  religi- 
ous, patriotic,  earnest,  and  more  far-seeing  than  his  con- 
temporaries, and  more  vigorous  and  generous  than  the 
people  whose  liberties  he  restored  and  would  have  per- 
manently established,  but  that  they  were  recreant,  false, 
and  unfit  for  the  responsibilities  which  accompany  self- 
government. 

Since  the  publication  of  this  work,  many  documents 
illustrative  of  the  period  and  the  man  have  come  to  light. 
These  do  not  in  a  single  material  detail  give  occasion  for 
any  alteration  in  the  estimate  of  Rienzi 's  character  as 
hc're  depicted;  but  by  affording  abundant  evidence  that 
*  he  was  a  mystical  enthusiast,  they  confirm  the  accuracy 
of  Bulwer's  intuition  in  ascribing  to  him  that  phase  of 
fanaticism. 

The  work  deals  with  a  period  during  which  Rome  was 
in  dreary  degradation  —  abandoned  by  the  papacy,  with- 
out power  to  enforce  its  laws,  shrunken  in  population, 
its  former  grandeur  forgotten,  its  mighty  structures  and 
monuments  used  as  quarries  from  which  the  materials 
for  new  buildings  or  repairs  were  obtained ;  preyed  upon 


RIENZI  113 

by  the  great  barons,  and  so  wretchedly  misgoverned 
that  Petrarch  described  it  as  **the  abode  of  demons,  the 
receptacle  of  all  crimes,  a  hell  for  the  living. ' ' 

From  this  abject  condition  it  was  suddenly  transformed 
into  acknowledged  eminence  over  every  other  Italian 
state  by  one  man,  who  had  neither  rank  nor  wealth  to 
command  or  win  support.  Rejecting  any  title  save  that 
of  Tribune,  he  established  a  free  constitution  and  a  new 
code  of  law.  He  expelled  and  subdued  the  barons,  con- 
quered the  banditti,  conciliated  the  priests,  and  ruled 
impartially.  For  seven  months  these  amazing  benefits 
continued.  With  the  restoration  of  order  civilization 
revived,  trade  expanded,  and  crowned  heads  sent  hom- 
age and  congratulations.  But  all  who  serve  the  masses 
learn  that  every  concession  secured,  produces  a  demand 
for  further  benefits.  The  people's  representative  must 
continue  to  minister  to  their  desire  for  extended  power, 
or  his  popularity  declines.  This  necessity  caused  the 
Tribune  to  assert  the  right  of  Rome  to  a  voice  in  the 
election  of  the  Emperor  of  Rome,  and  thereby  he  in- 
curred the  disfavor  of  the  church.  He  was  commanded 
to  withdraw  his  claim,  and  upon  his  refusal  the  Pope 
excommunicated  Rienzi,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  mer- 
cenaries leagued  with  the  church  and  the  barons  en- 
tered the  city,  and  barricaded  a  part  of  it.  When  Ri- 
enzi addressed  the  citizens,  exhorting  them  to  assist  him 
in  driving  the  robbers  out,  ' '  the  sighs  and  groans  of  the 
people  replied  to  his."  They  could  weep,  but  they 
would  not  fight.  The  ban  of  the  church  produced  par- 
alysis, and  Rienzi  abdicated  and  fled  from  the  city. 
Thus  the  ignorant  cowardice  of  a  people  made  an  epi- 


114  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

sode  of  what  should  have  been  the  beginning  of  an  era. 

With  the  curse  of  the  church  over  him,  Rienzi  for  the 
next  seven  years  was  for  a  time  a  wanderer,  then  a 
chained  prisoner  in  a  dungeon  at  Avignon. 

But  affairs  at  Rome  went  from  bad  to  worse,  and  to 
retain  his  possessions  it  became  imperative  that  the  Pope 
should  take  steps  to  reestablish  some  authority  there. 
No  plan  seemed  so  promising  as  to  use  Rienzi 's  popular- 
ity as  an  aid  to  reconquest.  So  a  trial  was  accorded  the 
fallen  Tribune,  who  was  charged  with  two  offenses :  first, 
declaring  Rome  to  be  free;  second,  pretending  that  the 
Romans  had  a  right  of  choice  in  the  election  of  the  Ro- 
man Emperor.  He  was  acquitted  and  absolved,  named 
Senator  and  appointed  to  accompany  Cardinal  Albornez, 
who,  leading  an  armed  force,  was  empowered  *'to  ex- 
terminate heresy,  restore  the  dignity  and  rights  of  the 
church,  annihilate  the  leagues  formed  against  the  pon- 
tifical rights,  and  enforce  the  restitution  of  the  church 
property. ' ' 

Albornez  made  dexterous  use  of  the  popularity  of  the 
former  Tribune,  but  kept  him  from  Rome  until  Rienzi, 
perceiving  the  antagonism  and  purpose  of  the  Cardinal, 
made  arrangements  to  act  without  him,  entered  Rome, 
and  resumed  sway. 

The  dungeon  and  chains  had  altered  Rienzi 's  appear- 
ance. Formerly  slender,  he  had  become  stout,  and  a  dis- 
ease provocative  of  constant  thirst  had  fastened  upon 
him.  And  the  dignity  of  Senator  was  not  so  pleasing 
to  the  Romans  as  the  less  patrician  title  of  Tribune. 
Therefore  he  had  fewer  friends.  Nevertheless  there  fol- 
lowed seven  weeks  of  energetic,  beneficent,  and  prudent 


RIENZI  115 

rule,  with  none  of  the  ostentation  or  brilliant  extrava- 
gances which  dazzled  during  his  former  period  of  power. 
' '  He  alone  carried  on  the  affairs  of  Rome,  for  his  officials 
were  slothful  or  cold. ' ' 

To  defend  Rome  and  preserve  freedom,  an  armed 
force  was  necessary.  To  pay  the  force  a  tax  was  im- 
posed, and  the  multitude  joined  with  the  barons,  cried 
out  "Perish  him  who  made  the  gabelle,"  murdered  the 
Senator  and  tore  his  body  to  pieces. 

Rienzi  ruled  as  Tribune  seven  months;  in  exile  and 
prison  he  passed  seven  years.  His  sway  as  Senator  last- 
ed seven  weeks ;  and  in  this  romance  he  fills  seven  books, 
the  other  three  dealing  with  the  plague  at  Florence,  and 
The  Grand  Company  and  its  commander. 

Bulwer  attributes  the  failure  of  Rienzi  not  to  any 
error  of  the  man,  but  to  the  faults  of  the  people  he  sought 
to  serve,  who  were  a  miscellaneous  and  mongrel  mixture 
of  many  tribes.  The  tools  were  too  poor  for  the  arti- 
ficer's use.  An  unmixed  race  may  be  taught  that  to  be 
great  and  free  a  people  must  trust  not  to  individuals 
but  to  themselves;  that  to  institutions,  not  to  men,  they 
must  look  for  enduring  reforms ;  that  their  own  passions 
are  despots  to  be  subdued,  their  own  reason  should  be 
the  remover  of  abuses. 

But  vain  and  delusive  is  the  expectation  that  a  de- 
based and  embruited  population  mil  accept  such  teach- 
ings. A  selfseeker  more  or  less  corrupt  is  the  highest 
kind  of  ruler  such  a  populace  can  appreciate;  and  Ri- 
enzi's  fate  is  but  one  of  many  warnings  against  giving 
to  the  incapable  and  ignoble  a  free  government,  equal 
laws,  and  power. 


116  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

.  There  are  three  glorious  women  in  Bienzi  —  the 
gentle,  unselfish,  and  retiring  Irene,  the  flowerlike  Ade- 
line who  ''drooped  away  and  glided  into  heaven,"  and 
'the  regal  Nina,  imperious  and  haughty  to  all  else,  but 
consoling,  inspiring,  and  always  tender  to  her  lord. 

A  figure  differing  greatly  from  that  of  Rienzi,  having 
elements  of  grandeur  and  largeness,  and  wiser  through 
more  selfish  views,  is  Walter  de  Montreal,  minstrel-monk 
and  warrior,  the  knightly  leader  of  one  of  those  roving 
companies  of  men-at-arms  who  wandered  from  state  to 
state,  selling  their  services  and  participating  in  per- 
petual feuds,  tender  yet  stern;  a  Provencal,  with  the 
Troubadour's  love  of  song  and  skill  in  singing;  a  war- 
rior, ambitious,  determined,  and  ruthless ;  brilliant  in  the 
field,  but  no  match  for  the  wily  Italians  in  council ;  nurs- 
ing a  great  project,  bending  all  his  energies  to  its  ac- 
complishment, and  recognizing  in  Rienzi  his  most  for- 
midable obstacle.  From  a  deep  grief  which  invites  to 
retirement  and  rest,  he  turns  to  vast  plans  needing  con* 
stant  alertness  and  excluding  all  opportunity  for  re- 
grets and  sorrows.  And  the  frankness  which  he  never 
guarded  makes  him  a  victim,  where  he  designed  to  be  a 
benefactor.  His  ambitions  conflict  with  those  of  the 
Senator,  and  betrayal  leads  to  arrest,  trial,  and  execu- 
tion, with  the  swift  and  foreseen  doom  of  his  conqueror 
as  a  consequence. 

An  attractive  character,  and  one  natural  to  times  of 
agitation,  is  Adrian  Colonna,  whose  conciliatory  disposi- 
tion would,  with  a  worthy  people,  have  forwarded  and 
consolidated  freedom,  because  of  his  moderation,  wis- 


RIENZI  117 

dom,  and  position ;  but  with,  the  degenerates  of  Rome  his 
well-intentioned  efforts  fail,  his  abilities  find  little  scope 
for  useful  exercise,  and  he  becomes  but  an  unhappy 
spectator  of  failure,  instead  of  an  active  participant  in 
success. 

The  plague  broke  out  at  Florence  soon  after  the  fall 
of  the  Tribune,  and  Adrian's  search  for  Irene,  whom 
Rienzi,  on  the  approach  of  danger,  had  induced  to  leave 
Rome,  brings  into  view  the  desolation  of  the  city  where 
the  horror  reigned,  and  gives  occasion  for  the  introduc- 
tion of  a  Decameron-like  company,  who  retiring  to  an- 
other Fiesoli,  passed  their  time  in  similar  fashion  to 
those  whose  days  Boccaccio  chronicled. 

The  church  of  Rome  presents  a  sorry  spectacle  in 
these  volumes.  Its  every  act  has  a  sordid  or  selfish  mo- 
tive, and  though  its  conduct  is  not  commented  upon,  the 
mere  record  of  its  dealings  with  Rienzi  is  condemnatory. 

Rienzi  is  finely  constructed  and  nobly  executed. 
Eloquence  pervades  the  entire  narrative.  Its  reflections 
are  wise  and  its  judgments  discriminating.  The  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  its  characters  are  revealed  as  fully  as 
their  appearances  are  described,  and  the  great  figures 
afford  warning  as  well  as  command  admiration.  The 
work  evidences  a  masterly  comprehension  of  the  time 
and  its  phenomena,  and  of  their  relation  to  the  past  and 
future;  and  a  patient  study  of  the  men  prominent  in 
affairs,  and  the  circumstances  which  influenced  their  ac- 
tions. It  is  the  earliest  romance  in  which  actual  historic 
personages  appear  in  their  due  prominence,  and  in  their 
proper  relation  to  real  events.     It  was  therefore  a  de- 


118  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF   BULWER 

parture  from  the  customary,  and  the  author,  in  a  now 
discarded  preface,  thus  prepared  the  reader  for  some- 
thing different  from  the  usual : 
/  ''A  work  which  takes  for  its  subject  the  crimes  and 
errors  of  a  nation,  which  ventures,  however  unsuccess- 
fully, to  seek  the  actual  and  the  real  in  the  highest  stage 
of  passion  or  action,  can,  I  think,  rarely  adopt  with  ad- 
vantage the  melodramatic  effects  produced  by  a  vulgar 
mystery,  or  that  stage-effect  humor  which,  arising  from 
small  peculiarities  of  character,  draws  the  attention  of 
the  reader  from  greatness  or  from  crime,  to  a  weakness 
or  a  folly.  Nor  does  a  fiction,  dealing  in  such  subjects, 
admit  very  frequently,  or  with  minute  detail,  superfluous 
descriptions  of  costume  and  manners.  Of  costume  and 
manners  I  have  had,  indeed,  a  less  ambitious  and  less 
disputable  motive  for  brevity  in  delineation. 

''I  write  of  a  feudal  century,  and  I  have  no  desire  to 
write  more  than  is  necessary  of  feudal  manners,  after 
the  inimitable  and  everlasting  portraitures  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott.  I  say  thus  much,  in  order  to  prepare  the  mind  of 
the  reader  as  to  what  he  is  to  expect  in  the  following 
volumes  —  a  duty  I  think  incumbent  upon  every  author 
of  discretion  and  benevolence;  for,  being  somewhat 
warned  and  trained,  as  it  were,  the  docile  reader  thus 
falls  happily  upon  the  proper  scent,  and  does  not  waste 
his  time  in  scampering  over  fields  and  running  into 
hedges  in  a  direction  contrary  to  that  which  he  ought  to 
pursue. 

' '  Mistake  not,  0  courteous  reader  —  imagine  not  that 
all  this  prologue  is  to  prepare  thee  for  a  dull  romance  — 
imagine  not  that  I  desire  to  prove  to  thee  that  romances 


RIENZI  119 

should  be  dull.  And  yet  I  must  allow  my  preface  is 
ominous  —  little  of  costume,  less  of  mystery,  nothing  of 
humor !  What  is  there  left  to  interest  or  amuse  ?  Pas- 
sion, character,  action,  truth!  Enough  of  materials,  if 
the  poor  workman  can  but  weave  them  properly!" 

The  work  became  a  power  in  Italy,  stimulating  those 
engaged  in  the  task  of  political  regeneration  and  influ- 
encing the  forces  which  became  active  in  1848.  Besides 
aiding  in  recreating  Italy,  it  had  a  beneficent  effect  on  a 
great  artist.  Wagner  records  that  in  Bulwer  Lytton's 
Rienzi  he  obtained  an  inspiration  which  lifted  him  far 
above  the  cares  and  distraction  of  his  home  life.  ^ 

Rienzi  was  published  in  1835. 


LEILA 

THE  closing  scenes  of  the  final  act  in  the  recon- 
quest  of  Spain  from  the  Moors  are  depicted  in  this 
romance.  The  last  stage  of  eight  centuries  of  con- 
flict in  which  chivalrous  honor,  frank  courtesy,  and  pro- 
digious valor  distinguished  alike  the  native  Spaniard  and 
the  intruders  from  Mauritania  who  had  established  an  as- 
cendency they  strove  vainly  to  maintain,  was  reached 
when  Ferdinand  massed  his  forces  around  the  city  of  the 
Alhambra.  The  last  chapters  in  the  history  of  an  alien 
dynasty  which  ended  with  the  surrender  of  Granada  to 
its  Christian  conquerors  are  here  recorded.  The  fluctua- 
tions of  that  memorable  siege,  the  incidents  which  accom- 
panied its  progress  and  the  personages  who  were  the  prin- 
cipal agents  in  forwarding  or  resisting  the  ensuing  tri- 
umph, are  vividly  described.  Boadbil  the  vacillating,  his 
stern  mother,  the  brave  unselfish  Muza,  the  politic  Fer- 
dinand, and  the  fanatical  Torquemada  are  all  adequately 
portrayed. 

The  interest  of  the  work  centers  in  Almamen,  the  un- 
avowed  Jew  and  master  of  magic.  Pride  in  his  race  and 
hatred  of  its  oppressors  inflame  him  to  the  double  pur- 
pose of  winning  liberty  for  his  people  and  wreaking  re- 
venge on  their  perfldious  foes. 

There  is  nothing  sordid  or  selfish  in  his  ambition,  but 
the  contempt  in  which  both  Moor  and  Castilian  hold  all 
Jews  compels  him  to  hide  his  connection  with  the  de- 


LEILA  121 

spised  race  and  allow  himself  to  be  mistaken  for  a  Moor ; 
and  he  cannot  disclose  his  identity  to  other  Jews,  for  he 
knows  they  would  betray  him.  Therefore  in  all  his  en- 
deavors he  is  alone,  having  neither  confidant  nor  friend. 
He  negotiates  with  Moor  and  Christian,  despising  both. 
His  influence  causes  Boabdil  to  suspect  his  noblest  friend 
and  to  delay  when  prompt  action  is  imperatively  needed. 
In  the  Christian  camp  he  has  to  contend  with  fanaticism 
and  craft  as  well  as  ambition,  and  despite  all  his  address 
and  resourcefulness,  his  attempt  to  secure  by  guile  and 
treason  fair  conditions  for  his  people  not  only  fail,  but 
produce  greater  misery  and  renewed  persecution  and 
bring  upon  his  own  head  sufferings,  sorrow,  and  death. 
His  energy  and  courage  should  command  sympathy,  but 
the  scheming  man  is  a  practiser  of  the  sorcerer's  arts. 
His  appearances  are  abrupt  and  mysterious,  his  deeds 
transcend  those  of  mortals,  and  although  his  misfortunes 
are  great  the  pity  due  to  the  man  is  withheld  from  the 
magician. 

Passion  is  foreign  to  the  Jew.  It  perplexes  and  con- 
founds him ;  but  sentiment  is  a  ruling  influence  with  all 
the  race,  and  its  potency  is  finely  illustrated  in  Leila,  the 
daughter  of  Almamen.  Disliking  and  distrusting  the  mer- 
cenary Jews,  the  Santon  has  kept  Leila  apart  from  all 
her  people,  and  their  institutions,  customs,  and  ceremon- 
ies have  not  been  made  familiar  to  her.  When  trans- 
ferred to  a  Christian  household  and  made  acquainted 
with  the  teachings  and  acts  of  Christ,  her  gratitude, 
sympathy,  and  reverence  for  good  cause  her  to  see  in 
Christianity  not  a  hostile  religion,  but  a  higher  develop- 
ment of  the  creed  of  the  Jew.     She  forsakes  a  faith 


122  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

which  never  has  been  more  than  a  gloomy  mystery  to 
her  for  one  which  promises  precisely  what  her  sorrow 
and  hopelessness  render  precious. 

When  persecution  was  the  universal  lot  of  the  Jew, 
necessity  solidified  the  race,  and  through  centuries  of 
suffering,  spoliation,  and  humiliation,  its  members  main- 
tained the  right  to  think  for  themselves  and  refused  to 
accept  from  others  either  ceremony  or  belief.  But  it  is 
the  daughters  of  Israel  who  have  preserved  the  creed 
and  institutions  of  their  race,  and  inspired  the  resist- 
ance to  all  dictation  in  matters  of  belief. 

With  extending  toleration,  the  circumstances  which 
made  the  Jews  a  peculiar  people  are  changed.  Imita- 
tion of  and  amalgamation  with  the  Gentile  increases,  and 
the  education  of  the  women  of  Israel  may  effect  what 
force  failed  to  accomplish,  and  cause  the  tribes  to  be 
absorbed  by  the  peoples  among  whom  they  live.  But  a 
pure  race,  enlightened  and  cultivated,  devoting  atten- 
tion to  the  quality  rather  than  the  quantity  of  their 
offspring,  would  have  advantages  over  every  other  peo- 
ple, greater  than  any  at  present  attributed  to  the  Jew. 

Leila  is  the  most  perfunctory  production  of  its  au- 
thor. The  men  and  women  are  not  made  known  to  us 
by  unfoldings  in  dialogue  and  action.  Descriptions  are 
substituted  for  revealings,  and  with  few  exceptions  the 
characters  remain  undeveloped.  Possibly  this  resulted 
from  the  limited  compass  of  the  work,  which  was  writ- 
ten to  accompany  steel  engravings  ' '  by  the  most  eminent 
artists.''  A  strife  for  superiority  in  theatrical  treat- 
ment seems  to  have  raged  among  the  illustrators.  Leila 
was  published  in  1835. 


CALDERON 

COMPACT,  absorbing,  and  rapid  in  its  action,  with 
few  characters  and  no  episodical  incidents,  the  tale 
of  Calderon  has  in  its  plot,  its  personages,  and  its 
catastrophe  the  material  of  a  strong  tragedy.  Curious- 
ly similar  to  Le  Rois'  Amiise  it  is  as  odd  that  Bulwer  and 
Hugo  should  at  about  the  same  time  have  hit  upon 
stories  with  such  a  likeness,  as  that  The  Lady  of  Lyons 
and  Ruy  Bias  were  produced  in  the  same  year. 


MALTRAVERS 

THE  double  plot,  which  is  an  important  character- 
istic of  Bulwer's  later  productions,  is  the  domin- 
ant feature  in  this,  the  most  fascinating  of  his 
works. 

Telestic  meanings  may  be  found  in  all  great  books. 
Cervantes  in  relating  the  mischances  of  Don  Quixote 
had  a  purpose  beyond  the  description  of  a  series  of 
adventures.  In  that  work  he  illustrates  the  struggle  of 
poetry  with  the  commonplace,  the  ridicule  with  which 
mankind  regards  enthusiasm  for  good,  the  ingratitude 
of  the  world  to  its  would-be  betterers,  with  other  sig- 
nifications discernible  when  the  romance  is  attentively 
perused.  Usually  the  occurrence  of  these  suggestions 
is  intermittent  and  merely  incidental.  But  the  double 
purpose  is  a  fundamental  element  in  the  design  of 
Maltravers.  It  is  maintained  throughout  the  work,  it 
governs  the  choice  of  characters  and  incidents,  and 
is  the  compelling  cause  of  some  of  the  situations. 

The  effects  produced  by  the  ordinary  circles  of  the 
world  upon  the  moral  development  of  an  artist  who  is 
wealthy  and  well-born,  and  whose  temptations  are  more 
insidious  and  conducive  to  abandonment  of  effort  than 
are  those  which  beset  poverty ;  the  discipline  which  ad- 
vances him,  the  influences  which  thwart  or  retard,  and 
the  conduct  which  ultimately  secures  serenity  and  faith 
as  additions  to  fortitude,  and  makes  beneficent  activity 


MALTRAVERS  125 

possible,  provide  the  main  interest  and  lessons  of  the 
book. 

The  changes  wrought  on  the  characters  of  other  fre- 
quenters of  these  circles  are  also  shown.  He  who  covets 
praise  and  immediate  popularity,  availing  himself  of 
whatever  promises  these,  deteriorates,  finds  neither  sat- 
isfaction nor  content,  and  sinks  from  the  envious  into 
the  despicable. 

The  intriguing  self-seeker,  who  schemes  for  power  as 
the  ministrant  to  his  own  importance,  finds  in  these 
same  circles  means  to  his  ends,  ever  seems  to  gain  through 
using  devious  methods,  but  always  finds  in  apparent 
success  disappointment  and  humiliation;  he  climbs  by 
evil  paths  to  heights  which  have  no  glory  in  prospect, 
no  satisfaction  in  retrospect,  no  pleasure  in  possession. 

The  work  describes  and  reveals  the  feelings  and  ac- 
tion—  the  mental  and  moral  growth  —  of  those  whose 
histories  it  narrates.  It  gives  graphic  pictures  of  the 
higher  social  circles  of  Paris  and  London,  and  in  dis- 
playing the  various  agencies  which  severally  influence 
the  artistic  and  the  natural,  introduces  a  great  number 
of  characters  who  ai'e  generalized  representatives  of  the 
world's  classes  and  institutions  with  which  Maltravers 
and  Alice  are  brought  into  contact.  Though  each  of 
these  characters  personifies  some  quality  —  such  as  am- 
bition, conventionality,  egotism,  practical  philosophy  — 
all  are  wholly  free  from  the  formal  rigidity  usual  in 
allegorical  personages. 

Of  these  depictions,  the  scheming  Ferrars  is  the  most 
elaborate.  With  careful  particularization  the  gradual 
corruption  of  his  mind  is  shown  as  he  thrusts  himself 


126  PROSE  ROMANCES   OF  BULWER 

into  power  and  position,  and  progresses  from  youth  to 
maturity ;  how  his  adroitness  becomes  trickery,  then  de- 
ceit, and  presently  criminality;  and  the  retributive  fate 
by  which  his  despised  dupes  bring  about  his  ruin  at  the 
moment  of  his  seeming  triumph,  and  add  another  to  the 
long  list  of  those  who  approximating  themselves  to  the 
principle  of  evil  —  intellect  without  beneficence  —  like 
their  exemplar,  end  in  failure. 

In  a  world  of  mediocrities  who  not  only  reprobate 
what  they  recognize  as  evil,  but  suspect  the  good  which 
is  above  their  comprehension,  the  unselfish  necessarily 
meet  with  much  to  deter  from  generous  activity,  and  the 
favor  shown  to  those  who  by  equivocal  means  have  at- 
tained prominence  and  position  is  not  the  least  of  their 
discouragements.  Nevertheless,  in  the  progress  of  this 
romance  it  is  shown  that  self  approval  is  of  greater  value 
than  celebrity,  and  that  conduct  regulated  by  principle, 
regardless  of  mere  popularity,  results  in  higher  attain- 
ments and  greater  satisfaction  than  other  courses  would 
secure ;  that  every  sin  must  be  suffered  for ;  and  that  the 
instances  in  which  vicious  methods  appear  to  have  suc- 
ceeded are  always  deceptive,  because  those  who  follow 
crooked  paths  leave  contentment  behind  them,  are 
harassed  by  disquieting  anxieties,  and  are  overtaken 
by  inevitable  disaster. 

Genius  is  naturally  solitary.  Maltravers  is  an  orphan, 
whose  guidance  devolves  upon  the  amiable  dilettante 
Cleveland.  Educated  in  Germany,  he  acquires  there  a 
high  conception  of  the  dignity  and  principles  of  art, 
and  an  ideal  standard,  too  elevated  for  practical  life, 


MALTRAVERS  127 

by  which  he  judges  man,  the  world,  and  its  institutions. 
Exaggerated  sentiments,  an  unregulated  love  of  the 
natural,  and  the  desire  to  improve  whatever  he  en- 
counters, prompt  him  to  undertake  the  culture  of  the 
untutored  Alice.  He  adopts  measures  recognized  as 
unusual  and  wrong,  because  they  involve  secrecy  and 
an  assumed  name ;  and  since  those  who  cultivate  art  are 
more  than  ordinarily  vulnerable  to  emotion,  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  danger  with  which  the  experiment  is  fraught 
barely  precedes  his  surrender  to  passion,  and  the  error 
of  allowing  sentiment  to  rule  conduct  produces  lasting 
grief,  made  more  poignant  by  the  disappearance  of 
Alice. 

Despite  the  poverty  and  wretchedness  of  her  early 
environment,  Alice  is  not  a  product  of  vicious  life.  Her 
receptivity  for  cultivation  is  an  inheritance,  for  her 
father  was  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  though  that  fact  was 
twisted  by  Luke  Darvil  into  an  excuse  for  wrong-doing. 
Though  ignorant  and  unsophisticated,  under  artistic  in- 
fluence she  quickly  develops  the  graces  natural  to  her 
sex.  Affection  is  her  strongest  characteristic,  and  music, 
the  art  which  reproducing  and  expressing  moods  most 
closely  approaches  feeling,  becomes  her  joy  and  solace. 
Unaware  of  sin,  she  errs,  nor  recognizes  evil  in  her  act; 
but  the  affection  which  misled  becomes  a  duty  strength- 
ening with  the  years.  Vicious  suggestion  is  powerless  to 
debase,  hypocritical  example  does  not  corrupt  her.  Ex- 
perience refines  the  original  strength,  patience,  and  con- 
stancy of  the  natural.  Culture  adds  comprehension  of 
morality  and  reverence  for  religion,  and  these  become 


128  PROSE  ROMANCES   OF  BULWER 

the  principles  by  which  conduct  is  governed  so  abso- 
lutely that  no  circumstance  or  peril  is  permitted  to  cause 
the  least  infraction  of  their  dictates. 

The  artist  justly  regards  wrong-doing  as  entailing 
responsibility  and  calling  for  punishment.  He  views 
the  Deity  as  a  grander  reflection  of  his  own  ideas,  and, 
conscious  of  having  injured  another,  becomes  morbidly 
remorseful,  self  accusing,  and  despondent. 

In  the  society  of  the  practical  he  by-and-by  half  for- 
gets what  disappointed  enthusiasm  has  lost,  and  the 
low  views  of  life  are  opposed  to  the  high.  In  the  fash- 
ionable functions  of  a  court  whose  frivolous  characters 
and  formal  customs  seem  to  justify  the  satirist's  opinion 
of  mankind,  he  meets  one  who,  actuated  by  principle 
and  mindful  of  duty,  successfully  resists  her  own  weak- 
ness. Though  the  conventional  is  inimical  to  artistic 
advancement  because  of  its  bias  toward  the  common- 
place and  popular,  individuals  superior  to  the  class  may 
attract  the  artist,  but  only  disappointment  could  result 
from  any  alliance.  Friendship,  however,  is  mutually 
beneficial,  and  this  is  established.  A  higher  apprecia- 
tion of  humanity  is  restored,  and  since  there  can  be 
no  long  continued  congeniality  between  the  artist  who 
is  necessarily  sympathetic  and  the  egotist  who  seeks 
only  to  put  others  to  use,  disgust  with  the  selfishly  prac- 
tical ends  the  companionship  of  Ferrars  and  Maltravers. 

Loneliness  gives  occasion  for  reflection  and  creates  a 
desire  to  write.  The  artist  begins  composition  with 
no  aim  other  than  self -development.  He  meets  Cesarini, 
and  the  spectacle  of  a  mediocre  poet  overestimating  his 
powers,  consumed  with  the  desire  for  immediate  fame, 


MALTRAVERS  129 

unhappy,  discontented,  and  deluded,  almost  affrights 
Maltravers  from  his  purpose. 

De  Montaigne  the  philosopher,  practical  and  effica- 
cious friend  and  adviser,  schools  Maltravers  into  thinking 
justly  and  perceiving  clearly,  shows  him  the  requisites 
for  useful  production,  the  duty  of  pursuing  his  voca- 
tion with  high  and  unselfish  aims,  dispels  his  doubt  and 
irresolution,  and  inspires  to  effort.  Intent  upon  appli- 
cation, Maltravers  leaves  his  Italian  friends,  and  after  a 
period  of  solitude  in  the  retirement  of  his  old  home, 
tempts  gods  and  columns  as  an  author. 

The  biting  reviews,  the  depreciating  praise,  and  the 
personal  abuse  with  which  the  contributors  to  the  pe- 
riodical press  seek  to  degrade  those  who  aspire  to  a 
position  in  the  fierce  republic  of  letters,  and  which  are 
dealt  out  unsparingly  to  Maltravers  as  soon  as  his  book 
is  published,  rouse  resentment,  then  disgust;  and  it 
needs  all  the  fine  sense  and  reasoning  of  De  Montaigne 
to  reconcile  him  to  his  career. 

But  enthusiasm  and  unselfish  desire  to  benefit  his  race 
have  given  place  to  disdain  for  humanity,  and  pride  has 
become  his  prevailing  characteristic.  Misrepresentation 
and  abuse,  even  if  disregarded,  have  evil  effects  on  the 
artist,  inasmuch  as  they  destroy  his  confidence  in  justice 
and  narrow  his  sympathies.  Maltravers  has  become 
wiser,  but  also  harsher.  Stem  principles,  not  generous 
sentiments,  now  rule  his  conduct.  He  is  strong  to  resist 
temptation,  but  no  longer  anxious  to  do  good.  He  re- 
sumes literary  work,  in  addition  to  which  he  undertakes 
the  toils  of  a  legislator,  and  slowly  acquires  power  and 
fame. 


130  PEOSE  ROMANCES   OF  BULWER 

Again  Cesarini  appears;  envious,  accusing,  jealous, 
and  manifesting  his  vanity  by  an  affectation  of  the  pic- 
turesque in  costume  and  conduct.  Wasting  his  powers 
and  his  means  in  unworthy  pretensions,  feted  by  a  co- 
terie and  mistaking  that  for  fame,  Cesarini  is  a  type  of 
the  charlatanic  writer.  He  composes  verses  about  pas- 
sions and  situations  never  experienced,  praises  gloom 
and  solitude,  affects  strange  dress,  and  blames  the  lack 
of  these  characteristics  in  others.  He  aspires  to  the  hand 
of  Lady  Florence,  and  welcomes  the  fulsome  flattery  of 
Ferrars,  in  both  instances  exposing  his  want  of  com- 
mon sense.  He  sacrifices  his  integrity  for  a  foolish  re- 
venge, allows  passion  to  distort  conduct  into  injustice, 
and  sinks  from  the  poet  into  the  criminal. 

In  the  great  World  of  fashion  and  wealth,  these  con- 
trasting types  of  the  followers  of  art  meet  Lady  Flor- 
ence. To  Cesarini  she  is  patronizing,  but  he  miscon- 
strues her  courtesies  into  evidences  of  love.  To  Mal- 
travers  she  would  be  an  Egeria,  inspiring  and  guiding 
to  other  fields  than  those  of  art.  Influence  and  fame 
she  desires  for  him,  but  power  is  her  great  object. 

Cesarini  avows  his  love  and  is  contemptuously  reject- 
ed. Maltravers  is  surprised  into  a  declaration  and  is 
accepted.  But  he  quickly  regrets  this  impulsive  act,  for 
the  artist  requires  serenity  and  confidence,  and  these  are 
incompatible  with  her  exacting  and  aspiring  aims.  She 
is  the  personification  of  ambition.  Beautiful,  attractive, 
and  ardent,  her  partial  comprehension  of  the  world  is 
derived  from  the  narrow  coterie  in  which  her  lot  is  cast, 
and  she  regards  with  disdain  most  of  its  frequenters. 
Pique  and  vanity  cause  her  interest  in  Maltravers,  which 


MALTRAVERS  131 

changes  to  ambition  for  him,  an  ambition  she  designs  to 
guide  and  direct.  Too  selfish  to  judge  men  aright,  she 
errs  in  all  her  estimates  of  theifl.  Too  ready  to  believe 
that  all  act  from  interested  motives,  she  wrecks  her  hap- 
piness and  her  life  by  willingly  yielding  to  suspicion. 
But  her  intimacy  with  Maltravers  elevates  her  beliefs 
and  softens  her  conduct.  She  begins  to  see  that  pa- 
triotism and  virtue  are  something  more  than  names,  and 
becomes  better  fitted  for  noble  uses  in  the  world,  just  as 
fate  hurries  her  from  it. 

Cesarini,  prompted  by  Ferrars,  plays  on  her  weakness 
and  causes  the  breaking  of  her  engagement,  which  re- 
sults in  her  death.  Maltravers  learns  part  of  the  plot 
which  maligned  him  and  deceived  Lady  Florence,  and 
disgust  with  men  is  added  to  his  scorn  of  the  world  and 
th^  objects  he  had  pursued.  He  withdraws  from  strife 
with  competitors  whom  he  despises,  leaves  England,  and 
among  the  nomad  Arabs  learns  to  live  alone,  remote 
from  and  regardless  of  his  f ellowmen. 

But  he  is  an  artist,  whom  barbarism  can  only  tran- 
siently interest  and  satisfy,  and  presently  the  world  of 
finer  possibilities  lures  him  back. 

After  varied  travels  Maltravers  returns  to  his  home. 
He  has  taught  himself  to  regard  efforts  in  amelioration 
of  the  condition  of  humanity  as  useless.  Men  in  the 
mass  are,  ever  have  been,  and  will  continue  to  be,  dis- 
contented and  unhappy.  Only  to  the  few  in  each  gen- 
eration is  any  exception  to  the  universal  lot  vouchsafed, 
and  effects  are  so  different  from  intents  that  he  questions 
whether  the  active  philanthropist  does  more  good  than 
evil.     Civilization  is  the  continued  sacrifice  of  one  gen- 


132  PROSE  ROMANCES   OF  BULWER 

eration  to  the  next,  and  he  adopts  a  policy  of  indiffer- 
entism  which  justifies  his  abstention  from  effort  in  the 
large  labors  of  his  land.  He  employs  himself  in  improv- 
ing his  estate  and  its  dependents.  Art  is  no  longer  cul- 
tivated. He  limits  his  aims  to  being  just,  expecting 
little  from  mankind;  and  cherishing  pride  as  a  virtue, 
he  is  not  restrained  by  consideration  for  others  from  in- 
dulging in  sarcasms  which  wound. 

Again  De  Montaigne  controverts  the  justice  of  his  con- 
clusions, shows  that  discontent  is  the  source  of  perpetual 
progress  and  may  have  no  goal  even  in  Heaven;  that 
progress  and  improvement  do  go  together  though  a  few 
social  measures  may  have  failed  to  accomplish  the  de- 
sired ends,  for  the  life  of  the  worker  has  been  lengthened 
and  the  quality  of  his  desires  improved.  The  discon- 
tented serf  after  receiving  freedom  desires  higher  wages, 
greater  comforts,  easier  justice;  all  nobler  wants,  all 
springing  from  discontent,  which  can  only  be  banished 
by  activity.  Activity  is  virtuous  therefore,  privileges 
are  accompanied  by  obligations,  the  mission  of  genius 
can  only  be  discharged  in  action.  And  to  labor  in  the 
service  of  mankind  is  at  once  a  duty  and  a  blessing. 

His  system  of  false  philosophy  is  thus  disturbed.  But 
when  he  recalls  his  former  drudgeries  in  politics  and  lit- 
erature, the  small  enmities,  the  false  friendships,  the 
malice,  the  envy,  and  the  abuse  which  accompany  high- 
purposed  activity,  dismay  him,  and  he  shrinks  from  re- 
entering public  life.  The  solitude  of  his  home  oppresses 
him.  He  has  no  object  in  life,  and  regrets  for  the  past 
consume  him.     And  then  he  meets  Evelyn,  whose  youth, 


MALTRAVERS  133 

truth,  and  goodness  recall  Alice.  Wearied  and  lonely,  he 
fancies  that  with  her  the  void  in  his  life  might  be  filled. 

Ferrars,  now  Lord  Vargrave,  intent  upon  securing  to 
himself  the  fortune  of  Evelyn,  imposes  upon  Maltravers 
by  a  false  tale  of  consanguinity,  and  thereby  causes  the 
renunciation  of  Evelyn.  Maltravers  resolves  to  leave 
Europe,  but  an  impulse  causes  him  to  return  to  England, 
and  there  he  learns  that  Vargrave 's  representations 
were  deliberately  untruthful.  Meeting  Alice  again  he 
becomes  aware  that  it  was  certain  resemblances  in  tone, 
gesture,  and  manner  which  Evelyn  bore  to  Alice  that  had 
attracted  him.  And  that  it  is  in  Alice  —  the  natural 
enriched  by  culture  and  experience,  more  faithful  and 
firm  under  trial  and  temptation,  more  constant  and  un- 
selfish in  affection,  sympathy,  and  beneficence  than  him- 
self —  he  must  find  the  completing  crown  of  his  own  de- 
velopment. Thus  the  artistic  having  acquired  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  uses  of  the  ideal  and  the  actual,  and  the 
natural  having  been  elevated  and  refined  by  sacrifice  and 
experience,  are  brought  together;  and  with  serenity  se- 
cured and  faith  strengthened,  it  becomes  possible  for 
knowledge  and  experience  to  be  applied  to  definite  and 
useful  purposes. 

The  artist's  irregular  and  sentimental  admiration  and 
devotion  to  the  natural  produced  error  and  remorse,  for 
sentiment  fails  as  a  guide  to  conduct  whenever  passion 
appears. 

The  egotist  opposed  the  commonplace  views  to  the 
ideal,  but  their  trend  toward  the  low  caused  disgust  and 
abandonment. 


134  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

The  conventional  as  desired  would  have  been  a  de- 
grading tie ;  when  its  usages  are  properly  respected  it  is 
helpful,  consolatory,  and  inspiring. 

Ambition  allured  and  also  distracted  but  never  could 
have  satisfied,  for  it  aims  at  power,  with  which  art  has 
no  concern. 

The  artist  recognizing  the  ideal  as  a  standard  toward 
which  efforts  should  be  bent,  and  the  practical  as  a  con- 
dition from  which  elevating  processes  should  be  directed, 
becomes  more  steadfast,  less  haughty,  and  better  fitted 
to  produce  refined  and  exalting  works. 

The  natural  undergoes  other  experiences  than  those 
which  school  the  artistic.  In  the  one,  intellect  is  dis- 
ciplined. In  the  other,  feeling  is  refined.  The  qualities 
of  the  one  are  of  the  head,  the  qualities  of  the  other  are 
of  the  heart.  Constancy  and  faith  elevate  affection; 
duty  and  religion  strengthen  it,  and  fit  the  probationers 
for  that  companionship  which  immaturity  rendered 
harmful  to  both. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  secondary  significances  of  Mal- 
travers. 

His  own  experiences  qualified  Bulwer  to  write  about 
the  preparation  and  composition  of  literary  works,  but 
his  remarks  are  not  applicable  to  his  own  publications  or 
career.  Unlike  Maltravers,  he  had  to  earn  his  livelihood 
by  his  pen,  and  periodicals,  annuals,  and  magazines  were 
contributed  to  by  him  with  an  industry  that  precluded 
the  careful  elaboration  his  hero  was  able  to  bestow. 
Many  of  the  observations  may  be  reminiscent,  as  for  in- 
stance those  on  the  changed  conditions  and  feelings  of 
the  author  at  the  time  a  book  is  published  from  those 


MALTRAVERS  135 

under  which  it  was  composed.  But  the  author  in  the 
book  is  a  very  different  individual  from  the  author  of 
the  book. 

Maltravers  contains  acute  and  remarkable  observa- 
tions on  the  fluctuations  of  civilization,  the  constant 
gains  accruing  from  social  improvements,  the  compara- 
tive unimportance  of  political  forms  or  governmental 
changes,  and  the  characteristics  of  French  literature  of 
the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe. 

It  was  published  in  two  parts,  the  first  under  the  title 
of  Ernest  Maltravers  in  1835,  the  second,  called  Alice, 
two  years  later. 


SHORT  STORIES 

THE  tales  in  The  Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine  are  a  part 
of  the  design  of  that  work.  They  show  the  range 
of  German  literary  activity,  and  wean  Gertrude 
Vane  from  longings  for  that  length  of  years  which  fate 
denies  her.  Other  stories  were  written  by  Bulwer  of 
which  the  more  important  are  fourteen  in  number. 
^'Monos  and  Diamonos"  and  the  seven  next  succeeding 
are  in  The  Student.  "The  Law  of  Arrest"  appeared  in 
The  New  Monthly  Magazine  for  1832,  and  was  included 
in  the  first  issue  of  The  Student^  but  omitted  from  later 
editions.  "De  Lindsay"  is  in  The  New  Monthly  for  1830, 
and  "Hereditary  Honours"  and  "The  Nymph  of  the 
Lurlie  Berg"  in  The  New  Monthly  for  1832.  "An  Ep- 
isode from  Life"  was  contributed  to  one  of  Lady  Bless- 
ington's  annuals  and  "The  Haunted  and  the  Haunters" 
to  Blackwood's  Magazine,  August,  1859. 

"Monos  and  Diamonos"  has  for  its  moral  the  need  of 
sinlessness  in  those  who  desire  solitude  for  its  pleasure. 

' '  The  World  as  It  Is"  inculcates  the  wisdom  of  modera- 
tion in  estimating  the  characters  of  those  with  whom  we 
come  in  contact,  because  without  it  disappointments  will 
be  experienced,  and  from  being  too  confiding  we  may  be- 
come over-suspicious. 

"The  Choice  of  Phylias"  illustrates  the  proposition 
that  day  is  not  more  separate  from  night  than  true  fame 


SHORT  STORIES  137 

from  general  popularity;  for  to  shine  is  to  injure  the 
selflove  of  others,  and  selflove  is  the  most  vindictive  of 
human  feelings. 

' '  The  True  Ordeal  of  Love ' '  is  constant  companionship. 
It  is  easy  for  two  persons  to  die  joyfully  together  when 
lovers,  but  difficult  to  live  comfortably  together  when 
married  and  seeing  too  much  of  each  other. 

**Arasmanes  the  Seeker"  for  Aden  or  content,  con- 
stantly finds  what  others  represent  as  that  condition, 
but  neither  in  love  nor  learning,  nor  commerce  nor  ad- 
venture, nor  power  does  he  find  it.  When  its  attainment 
appears  to  be  possible  at  the  expense  of  crime,  his  friend 
is  sacrificed,  but  only  in  death  is  found  that  content 
which  is  procurable  by  a  search  for  it. 

^'Chairolas"  treats  of  the  perilous  period  between  boy- 
hood and  manhood,  and  the  dangerous  possibility  that 
noble  enthusiasms  may,  as  the  result  of  ridicule  or  de- 
ception, be  discarded  as  follies,  and  the  endowment  which 
these  would  ennoble  and  make  beneficial,  thus  become  a 
curse. 

''Fi-ho-ti"  sets  forth  the  unpleasant  accompaniments 
of  reputation.  Those  whose  counsel  he  has  followed  be- 
come frigid  to  him,  the  friends  of  his  youth  manifest 
their  jealousy,  new  acquaintances  are  exacting  and  un- 
sympathetic, and  each  new  benefit  conferred  upon  the 
w^orld  raises  a  chorus  of  abuse  and  calumny.  His  atten- 
tions flatter  but  do  not  win  affection,  and  his  benefactions 
are  accepted  but  awaken  no  gratitude ;  and  disgusted  and 
rendered  suspicious,  the  sole  boon  craved  is  escape  from 
reputation. 

''Ferdinand  Fitzroy"  exhibits  the  inconvenience  of  be- 


138  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ing  too  handsome.  On  the  one  hand  it  is  regarded  as 
rendering  unnecessary  the  cultivation  of  mental  quali- 
ties. On  the  other  it  is  a  cause  of  these  being  denied  or 
belittled.  He  is  too  handsome  for  a  scholar,  a  lawyer, 
or  a  soldier,  or  for  a  member  of  parliament,  or  a  hus- 
band, or  an  heir,  or  anything  except  a  prison. 

* '  The  Law  of  Arrest ' '  ridicules  a  law,  since  repealed,  by 
which  on  a  false  oath  of  debt  a  person  could  be  deprived 
of  his  liberty  until  trial,  and  then  be  discharged  because 
his  accuser  did  not  appear;  he  having  profited  in  the 
meanwhile,  and  not  being  punishable,  except  through 
prosecution  for  perjury. 

''DeLindsay"  is  the  story  of  one  who,  after  years  of 
profligate  indulgence,  meets  and  loves  the  daughter  of  a 
bigoted  merchant.  Her  goodness  awakens  his  higher  na- 
ture, and  prompts  to  reforms  which  promise  atonement, 
which  at  the  point  of  realization  are  frustrated  by  the 
revenge  of  one  previously  injured. 

*' Hereditary  Honours"  are  satirised  by  an  account  of 
the  love  of  a  lawyer 's  daughter  for  one  who  has  an  hered- 
itary title  and  a  provision  from  the  government,  but  who 
turns  out  to  be  The  Hereditary  Hangman. 

* '  The  Nymph  of  the  Lurlei  Berb. ' ' —  Actuated  by  a  de- 
sire to  win  the  gold  guarded  by  the  water  spirits  of  the 
Rhine,  a  young  spendthrift,  *'by  birth  a  knight,  by  ne- 
cessity  a  robber,  and  by  name  and  nature  Rupert  the 
Fearnought,"  feigns  love  for  Lurline,  a  water  nymph, 
and  cajoles  her  into  entrusting  him  with  her  treasures 
to  enable  him  to  restore  his  impoverished  castle,  to  which 
he  promises  to  conduct  her  as  soon  as  it  is  fitted  for  her 
reception.     He  returns  no  more,  but  presently  arranges 


SHORT  STORIES  139 

to  espouse  the  Ladye  of  Lorchausen.  Then  the  guard- 
ians of  Lurline  beguile  the  bride's  vessel  to  the  rocks, 
and  revenge  on  the  faithless  lover  the  wrongs  of  the 
water  spirit  by  robbing  him  of  his  bride  and  her  treas- 
ure. 

*'An  Episode  in  Life/'  A  student  in  occult  matters  re- 
quiring a  document  his  dead  father  had  possessed,  but 
which  cannot  now  be  found,  by  his  art,  using  his  daugh- 
ter as  an  intermediary,  calls  up  the  spirit  of  his  father, 
which  warns  him  against  persisting  in  his  search.  Dis- 
regarding this  injunction,  he  perseveres  and  finds  the  lost 
papers,  but  causes  the  death  of  his  daughter,  and  brings 
about  his  own  ruin. 

''The  Haunted  and  the  Haunters"  is  an  attempt  to 
construct  an  interest  akin  to  that  formerly  felt  in  tales  of 
witchcraft  and  ghostland  out  of  ideas  and  beliefs  which 
have  crept  into  fashion  in  the  society  of  our  own  day, 
and  which  are  summed  up  in  the  term  spiritualism.  The 
phenomena  accompanying  these  beliefs  are  receiving  in- 
quisitive examination,  but  for  conclusive  theory  the 
facts  are  as  yet  insufficient  and  the  evidence  inadequate- 
ly tested.  In  this  condition  they  are  legitimate  material 
for  art. 

Learning  of  a  haunted  house  in  London,  the  author, 
accompanied  by  his  servant  and  his  dog,  undertakes 
the  occupancy  of  the  place,  and  after  examining  the 
premises  thoroughly  awaits  developments,  which  quickly 
ensue.  These  impress  him  with  the  idea  that  some  ex- 
traordinarily strong  will  is  opposed  to  whoever  and 
whatever  inhabits  the  house.  His  servant  is  affrighted 
and  runs  away,  his  dog's  neck  is  broken,  and  he  is  op- 


140  PROSE   ROMANCES   OF   BULWER 

pressed  with  an  unnatural  horror.  But  believing  that 
all  he  is  subjected  to  has  a  material  living  cause,  that 
much  of  what  is  called  supernatural  is  merely  some- 
thing of  which  we  have  been  hitherto  ignorant,  and  that 
what  was  presented  to  his  senses  must  originate  in  some 
human  being,  he  feels  interest  but  not  fear,  and  per- 
sists. Because  of  the  sensations  being  much  more  in- 
tense in  one  particular  room,  he  advises  the  owner  to 
destroy  that  room.  They  find  beneath  it  a  hidden  cham- 
ber in  which  is  an  apparatus  for  the  enforcement  of  the 
"Will  and  the  perpetual  curse  of  restlessness  upon  the 
house  and  all  who  dwell  therein,  and  a  miniature  and 
some  writing,  by  which  the  originator  is  made  recogniz^a- 
ble.  A  few  days  after,  the  author  beholds  the  original 
of  the  miniature,  is  introduced  to  him,  and  directs  the 
conversation  to  the  experiences  in  the  haunted  house. 
He  is  thereupon  thrown  into  a  trance  and  made  to 
answer  questions  concerning  the  future  of  the  Man 
with  the  Will,  then  left  asleep.  Afterward  he  receives 
a  note  from  this  man  forbidding  for  three  months  any 
communication  of  what  had  passed,  which  inhibition  he 
is  utterly  unable  to  break. 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING 

OF  this  work,  conduct  is  the  theme.  Not  the  ad- 
vantage of  cultivating  mental  qualities,  but  the 
imperative  need  of  determined  and  persistent 
effort;  of  respecting,  cherishing,  and  practicing  rigid 
honesty;  of  bearing  with  fortitude  the  trials  which  are 
incidental  to  all  lives,  and  of  sacrificing  self,  when  the 
occasion  arises,  no  matter  how  bitter  the  ordeal.  For 
from  each  right  act  there  follows  a  gain  in  strength,  and 
a  sense  of  satisfaction  not  otherwise  attainable;  and  he 
who  resolutely  resists  temptation,  endures  reverses  and 
disappointments  without  whining,  who  works  patiently 
even  at  disagreeable  tasks,  but  never  forfeits  self  es- 
teem, nor  incurs  the  disapproval  of  his  own  conscience, 
will  find  the  opportunity  for  which  his  discipline  has 
qualified  him,  and  emerging  from  the  Night  of  sorrow 
and  trial  into  the  Morning  of  hope  and  satisfaction, 
will  obtain  that  content  which  is  the  most  enviable  of 
possessions. 

The  production  of  a  series  of  acting  plays  preceded 
the  composition  of  Night  and  Morning,  and  as  a  result 
of  the  mastery  of  the  art  of  the  playwright,  this  and 
succeeding  works  possess  greater  condensation,  more 
compact  structure,  and  have  many  situations  essentially 
dramatic  in  treatment  and  effect. 

The  potentiality  of  circumstances  in  influencing  con- 


142  PEOSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

duct  for  evil  where  the  individual  is  weak  or  careless,  is 
repeatedly  shown,  and  responsibility  for  some  of  these 
results  is  placed  upon  society,  whose  province  it  should 
be  to  deal  with  vice,  as  law  does  with  crime.  The  fine 
world  which  approves  a  Lilburn  and  blasts  a  Gawtry, 
has  its  part  in  causing  the  criminality  of  the  latter,  and 
encouraging  the  worst  deeds  of  the  former.  Society 
suffers  from  both,  and  deservedly  so,  for  it  ought  to 
amend  the  circumstances,  and  not  be  content  with 
preaching  at  vice,  and  punishing  crime. 

The  characters  are  not  transcripts  from  life,  but  gen- 
eralizations from  wide  experience.  William  Gawtry  is  a 
supremely  tragic  figure  who  compels  both  pity  and  ter- 
ror. Roberts  Beaufort  is  an  original  type  of  the  ''re- 
spectable" man,  weak,  selfish,  formal,  and  unaware  of 
his  own  ingrained  despicability.  Lilburn  is  a  copy  of 
Saville  in  Godolphin,  but  with  more  energy  and  daring. 

The  important  incidents,  while  never  straining  the 
confidence  of  the  reader,  are  nevertheless  such  as  could 
not  be  imitated.  The  ingenuities  of  Gawtry  afford  no 
suggestions  to  the  evilly  inclined,  the  villainies  of  Lil- 
burn are  only  practicable  after  elaborate  tuition.  Both 
in  personages  and  events  the  actual  is  carefully  avoided. 

The  history  of  Caleb  Price,  which  is  given  in  the  open- 
ing chapter  of  Night  and  Morning^  contrasts  that  of  the 
hero  of  the  work,  by  showing  how  a  similar  reverse  of 
fortune  affects  one  without  energy,  and  prone  to  depend 
on  others.  In  careless  expectation  of  provision  from 
richer  friends,  Caleb  wastes  his  means  and  his  early 
years.  The  action  of  life  separates  him  from  his  wealthy 
companions,  and  he  subsides  into  a  poor  clergyman.     His 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING  143 

exile  is  brightened  for  a  brief  period  by  a  visit  from  an 
old  school-fellow,  for  whom  he  performs  a  private  mar- 
riage. Left  in  solitude,  he  indulges  in  dreams  of  a 
home,  strives  vainly  to  win  a  partner,  and  then  fades 
out  of  life,  his  last  hours  being  cheered  by  an  offer  of 
advancement,  which  comes  too  late. 

Philip  Morton,  only  a  boy  when  the  story  opens,  has 
been  reared  in  luxury,  his  propensities  to  pride,  extrav- 
agance, and  imperiousness  encouraged  rather  than 
checked ;  and  though,  generous  and  courageous,  his  char- 
acter shows  nothing  to  indicate  anything  better  than 
an  energetic,  dictatorial  manhood,  unredeemed  by  moral 
or  intellectual  culture.  By  the  sudden  death  of  his 
father  he  finds  himself  poor,  nameless,  and  dependent 
on  the  charity  of  him  who  has  appropriated  the  prop- 
erty hitherto  regarded  as  his  heritage.  His  mother  is 
failing  rapidly,  and  his  brother,  a  mere  child,  is  deli- 
cate and  timid;  but  although  moneyless  and  without 
trade  or  profession  he  refuses  the  aid  of  his  usurping 
uncle  and  seeks  employment,  accepting  the  first  position 
offered  him,  that  of  assistant  to  a  bookseller.  Subdu- 
ing his  pride,  he  leaves  his  home,  journeys  to  the  town 
where  his  employer  lives,  performs  tasks  uncongenial  to 
him,  refrains  from  all  indulgences,  and  saves  to  aid  his 
mother.  Ere  long  he  learns  that  her  death  is  imminent. 
His  funds  are  insufficient  for  any  useful  purpose.  He 
asks  an  advance  from  his  master,  which  is  refused.  An 
opportunity  to  appropriate  money  presents  itself.  Yield- 
ing to  the  temptation,  he  seizes  some  coins,  but  drops 
them  again;  and  on  foot  hurries  to  his  mother.  He 
finds  her  dead,  and  his  uncle,  who  has  been  called  to 


144  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF   BULWER 

her  side  and  offers  aid,  is  denounced  and  ordered  away. 

After  the  funeral,  with  his  child  brother  he  seeks 
work  again,  unsuccessfully,  until  his  horsemanship  wins 
him  employment. 

His  uncle  has  employed  a  lawyer  to  find  and  assist 
him,  but  he  mistakes  the  object  of  this  agent,  and  sus- 
pects that  punishment  for  his  action  at  the  bookseller's 
is  intended,  and  with  his  brother  he  takes  to  flight. 

His  uncle  is  not  the  only  person  who  is  anxious  to  find 
him.  An  older  friend  of  his  mother  also  desires  to  take 
charge  of  at  least  one  of  the  boys,  and  Sidney  is  found 
and  taken  away  by  this  gentleman.  Philip  searches  for 
his  brother,  spends  all  his  money  in  trying  to  find  him, 
and  only  ceases  after  receiving  an  upbraiding  letter  from 
the  child,  who  asks  to  be  left  in  peace  where  he  is  well 
cared  for.  Friendless  and  objectless,  Philip  works  at 
any  labor  offered,  and  endures  misery  and  poverty  until, 
dispirited  and  starving,  he  seeks  the  only  man  who  has 
ever  offered  him  a  kindness,  and  presently  finds  him- 
self with  Gawtry  at  Paris. 

Gawtry  lives  by  his  wits,  at  war  with  law,  and  his 
ingenious  schemings  are  all  frauds,  but  Philip  is  un- 
aware of  this  until  deepening  necessities  compel  partial 
confidences  from  Gawtry,  and  a  promise  to  show  how 
their  present  livelihood  is  won.  In  fulfilment  of  this 
promise  he  is  taken  to  the  quarters  of  Gawtry 's  friends, 
and  finds  that  they  are  coiners.  Before  any  expostula- 
tion or  protest  can  be  made,  a  new  member  is  introduced 
to  the  band,  in  whom  Gawtry  recognizes  an  agent  of 
the  police,  notwithstanding  his  clever  disguise.     Work 


NIGHT  AND  MORNING  145 

ceases,  and  a  feast  is  provided  in  honor  of  the  new  addi- 
tion to  their  ranks.  Gawtry  banters  this  individual  for 
awhile,  then  to  the  consternation  of  all  addresses  him 
as  Monsieur  Favart,  and  seizes  and  slays  the  dreaded 
detective  and  also  the  traitor  who  obtained  his  admis- 
sion; and  then  all  flee.  Pursued  by  officers,  Gawtry  is 
shot  and  killed.  Philip  escapes  and  is  protected  and 
hidden  by  a  lady  whose  reputation  is  jeopardized  by 
her  act. 

This  sacrifice  he  would  fain  repair,  and  circumstances 
conspire  to  render  other  methods  impossible,  so  mar- 
riage is  resolved  on.  He  becomes  engaged,  but  in  order 
that  he  may  win  some  honorable  distinction  before 
claiming  the  hand  of  one  so  generous  and  noble,  he 
joins  the  French  army  under  the  name  of  De  Vaude- 
mont.  Mme.  De  Merville  dies  from  an  illness  contracted 
in  one  of  her  many  errands  of  kindness.  To  conquer 
his  sorrow  and  carve  out  a  reputation,  Philip  becomes 
a  soldier  in  India,  and  in  the  course  of  years  wins  re- 
spect, esteem,  and  fortune. 

Then  he  returns  to  England  to  seek  his  brother,  and 
to  strive  for  justice  and  reparation.  He  secures  proofs 
that  his  parents  were  married,  loses  his  heart  to  the 
daughter  of  his  usurping  uncle,  and  finds  in  his  rival 
for  her  hand  the  brother  hitherto  vainly  sought  for. 
Reconciliation  and  the  giving  up  of  his  betrothed  to  Sid- 
ney follows,  and  Philip  finds  consolation  and  happiness 
with  Fanny. 

In  giving  this  partner  to  Philip,  there  is  this  injustice : 
that  the  tainted  blood  of  Lilbum  is  transmitted  to  an- 


146  PEOSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

other  generation,  and  thereby  an  injury  to  the  race  con- 
tinued, otherwise  the  potentiality  of  inheritance  is  un- 
derestimated or  heredity  regarded  as  unimportant. 

The  trials  undergone  by  Philip  weed  out  the  willful- 
ness and  arrogance  which  characterised  his  youth,  and 
presaged  an  unamiable  maturity.  He  is  taught  the  in- 
convenience of  pride,  the  necessity  of  consideration  for 
others,  the  blight  of  evil  associates;  that  good  qualities 
manifest  themselves  both  in  humble  persons  and  patri- 
cians ;  and  that  circumstances  are  so  compelling  a  factor 
in  life  that  man's  judgment  of  actions  is  by  necessity 
partial,  and  usually  unjust. 

A  curious  trend  in  Bulwer's  ideas  on  woman  is  in- 
dicated in  the  portrayal  of  the  heroine  of  this  work. 
He  appears  to  have  concluded  that  active  qualities  such 
as  kindness,  sympathy,  devotion,  and  confidence  are 
of  more  importance  in  the  helpmeet  than  a  cultivated 
intellect  and  acquired  accomplishments.  In  Malt  ravers 
Alice  is  one  whose  early  ignorance  kept  her  mind  un- 
formed, and  in  this  work  Fanny  is  shown  as  one  of  be- 
lated mental  awakening.  True,  it  is  seeming  backward- 
ness only.  High  capabilities  are  brought  out  whenever 
occasion  demands,  but  the  household  virtues  are  given 
unmistakable  preference,  intellectual  qualities  being 
treated  as  nonessentials  in  the  wife  of  the  active  man. 

Night  and  Morning  was  published  in  1841. 


ZANONI 

HUMAN  life,  exempt  from  the  usual  penalties  of 
existence,  but  still  subject  to  human  emotion ;  the 
nature  and  purposes  of  Art ;  and  the  preparations 
for  and  necessary  conditions  of  the  artist's  life  are  con- 
templated and  expounded  in  this  work.  The  exemplars 
of  life  prolonged  through  the  centuries  belong  to  an  au- 
gust fraternity  which  has  acquired  secrets  and  powers  by 
means  of  which  the  material  form  can  be  perpetually 
renewed  and  death  deferred  for  ages,  the  conditions 
upon  which  these  privileges  depend  being  an  abstention 
from  human  love,  and  an  entire  freedom  from  fear. 
Age  had  made  Mejnour  impervious  to  passion  or  feel- 
ing before  he  accepted  the  last  gift  of  his  order,  and 
knowledge  alone  attracts  him ;  but  before  the  departure 
of  youth  Zanoni  had  reached  the  highest  Theurgic  rank, 
and  mastered  its  last  secrets.  He  is  interested  in  all 
that  improves  life  and  its  conditions,  and  humanity 
is  still  dear  to  him. 

This  continued  existence  is  joyous  and  engrossing,  for 
only  those  who  are  brave,  just,  wise,  and  temperate  can 
attain  to  it ;  and  as  its  masters  possess  unusual  faculties 
and  capacities,  and  are  admitted  to  another  world  of 
existence,  that  of  the  beings  of  the  air  (who  though 
impalpable  and  imperceptible  to  the  uninitiated,  are 
familiar  to  the  adepts) ,  it  provides  ceaseless  interest,  con- 


148  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

stant  augmentation  of  knowledge,  the  ability  to  influ- 
ence, direct  or  actively  participate  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
to  counsel  and  assist  those  whose  endeavors  and  aspira- 
tions are  worthy  and  noble,  and  to  thwart  the  designs 
of  the  objectionable. 

The  scenes  and  events  which  provide  the  means  by 
which  the  representatives  of  this  sublime  brotherhood 
are  shown  and  unfolded  in  action  and  in  thought,  have 
their  beginning  in  the  home  of  an  Italian  musician,  whose 
fondness  for  the  strange  and  unearthly  as  subjects  for 
his  compositions  long  militated  against  any  recognition 
of  his  undeniable  ability.  Devoted  to  his  art,  but  care- 
less of  all  beside  except  his  wife  and  daughter,  on  whom 
is  concentrated  whatever  of  his  affection  is  spared  from 
the  barbiton  which  is  his  constant  companion  and  con- 
fidant, and  in  whose  strains  are  reflected  the  varying 
moods  of  the  master,  the  amiable  enthusiast  has  pro- 
duced many  works,  without  being  able  to  secure  the 
representation  of  one. 

Viola,  his  ''other  child,"  has  been  trained  for  the 
operatic  stage,  and  her  first  appearance  is  announced  in 
a  new  opera,  the  authorship  of  which  is  not  disclosed 
to  the  public.  She  has  insisted  that  her  father's  favor- 
ite work  shall  be  thus  produced,  and  the  twofold  success 
which  results  lifts  both  author  and  singer  into  fame. 

The  joy  and  satisfaction  so  long  delayed  is  of  brief 
duration,  for  the  musician  falls  ill  of  a  fever.  His  wife 
contracts  the  disease  while  nursing  him,  and  dies.  At 
a  critical  stage  in  his  illness,  he  misses  his  barbiton  and 
rises  to  search  for  it.  From  his  affrighted  servant  he 
learns  of  his  wife 's  death,  and  broken-hearted,  he  draws 


ZANONI  149 

from  his  old  familiar,  notes  of  more  piercing  wail  and 
poignant  agony  than  ever  before.  It  is  his  last  effort. 
The  strings  snap,  and  he  dies,  asking  that  ''it"  be  buried 
with  him,  near  ' '  her. ' ' 

In  the  sorrow  and  subsequent  trials  of  the  orphan, 
Zanoni,  who  had  already  aroused  Viola's  interest,  coun- 
sels, aids,  and  protects  her,  and  endeavors  to  bring  about 
her  union  with  a  younger  suitor.  Glyndon,  for  whom 
the  preference  of  Viola  is  thus  sought,  has  become  fas- 
cinated by  Zanoni,  and  is  eager  to  possess  similar  knowl- 
edge and  power.  Learning  that  this  is  possible  he  re- 
nounces Viola,  and  requests  to  be  admitted  to  the  broth- 
erhood for  love  has  passed  from  his  heart.  For  the 
purpose  of  preparation  and  initiation  he  becomes  Mej- 
nour's  pupil,  and  Zanoni  stoops  from  the  height  of  his 
attainments  and  yields  to  love,  taking  his  bride  to  a 
Grecian  island  where  he  seeks  to  lift  her  to  his  own 
world.  But  affection  is  all-sufficing  to  Viola.  She  has 
no  farther  desire,  and  love  draws  Zanoni 's  nature  down 
to  hers.  One  by  one  his  magic  gifts  fall  from  him.  The 
bright  creatures  of  the  air  no  longer  respond  to  his  call, 
and  the  malevolent  ones  obtrude  themselves.  He  has 
forfeited  his  power  and  become  as  other  men,  and  is 
oppressed  by  a  foreboding  of  woe  and  horror  and  death. 
He  becomes  a  father,  and  the  hope  that  by  means  of  a 
being  in  whom  both  meet  he  may  with  them  reascend  to 
the  realms  he  has  lost,  rejoices  and  inspires  him  with 
new  hopes.  But  his  watchings  and  murmurings  over 
his  child  perturb  the  mother,  and  make  her  fearful  for 
it,  and  a  priest  who  is  consulted  during  Zanoni 's  ab- 
sence so  alarms  her,  that  to  save  her  child  from  its 


150  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

father  she  flees  from  their  home  and  takes  refuge  in 
Paris,  where  the  Terror  reigns,  and  where  presently  she 
is  arrested  as  a  spy. 

Zanoni,  searching  for  his  wife,  discovers  that  she  is  in 
prison,  and  that  her  trial  is  fixed  for  the  third  day  for- 
ward. He  mixes  actively  in  affairs,  to  the  end  that 
Robespierre's  fall  may  precede  and  prevent  Viola's  con- 
demnation. He  succeeds  in  his  plans,  but  all  his  ef- 
forts are  rendered  futile,  for  the  tyrant  orders  the  trials 
to  be  advanced.  Thwarted  and  despairing,  in  the  agony 
of  his  disappointment  Zanoni  again  attempts  to  invoke 
the  aid  of  the  wisest  of  his  former  visitants.  His  in- 
tensity prevails.  Adon-ai  comes  to  his  call  and  comforts 
him  by  showing  that  the  brightest  immortality  can  never 
be  on  earth,  but  is  beyond  the  grave,  where  infinite  pro- 
gression does  not  preclude  companionship  with  those 
beloved  and  known  on  earth;  that  no  mortal  care  and 
provision  for  offspring  can  be  as  wise  and  good  as  that 
of  the  Almighty  Father,  and  that  the  common  lot  of 
humanity  is  that  of  the  highest  privilege.  Accepting 
these  conclusions,  Zanoni  no  longer  seeks  to  evade  the 
nearing  end  of  his  glorious  existence.  He  arranges  with 
the  judge  that  he  shall  be  tried  in  his  wife's  place,  thus 
securing  her  safety  beyond  the  days  of  the  Terror. 
He  is  condemned  and  led  to  Viola's  cell,  changing  her 
despair  into  delight.  He  blesses  his  child,  gives  his 
wife  an  amulet  she  had  oft  desired,  and  which  he  had 
promised  should  be  hers  ''when  the  laws  of  their  being 
should  be  the  same'*;  and  leaving  her  asleep  and  un- 
aware of  his  sacrifice,  goes  forth  to  his  death. 

Glyndon,  the  aspirer  to  higher  powers,  under  the  di- 


ZANONI  151 

rection  of  Mejnour  betakes  himself  to  the  place  selected 
for  his  preparation,  a  mined  and  remote  old  castle,  and 
after  he  has  accustomed  himself  to  his  surroundings  he 
is  brought  to  a  state  wherein  contemplation  and  imag- 
ining become  familiar.  Mejnour 's  science,  he  finds,  is 
devoted  first  to  the  secrets  of  the  human  frame,  and 
secondly  to  the  knowledge  which  elevates  the  intellect. 
Under  the  care  of  the  master,  indifference  to  the  world 
and  its  vanities  is  induced,  but  an  impatient  eagerness 
for  results  consumes  him,  and  this  impels  him  to  seek 
Mejnour,  and  to  enter  unannounced  the  apartment  ap- 
propriated by  the  master.  A  diffused  fragrance  is  per- 
ceived, dim  forms  seen,  and  an  icy  and  intolerable  cold 
almost  slays  him.  He  is  carried  from  the  room  by  Mej- 
nour, and  warned  of  the  danger  incurred  by  venturing 
unprepared  into  that  atmosphere,  but  he  is  ardent  for 
further  progress  and  asks  initiation.  Mejnour  approves 
his  desire,  and  induces  trance,  the  first  step  in  all  knowl- 
edge. In  this  condition  he  wishes  to  see  Zanoni  and 
Viola,  and  his  unuttered  desire  is  gratified.  Then  he  is 
dismissed  to  meditate  until  midnight.  When  pupil  and 
master  meet  Mejnour  reminds  him  how  naturally  ar- 
rogant is  man,  who  fancied  all  creation  made  for  him, 
and  long  thought  that  the  stars  only  shone  to  make  the 
night  agreeable.  Now  he  knows  that  each  is  a  world 
rivalling  this  in  size  and  splendor.  But  in  the  small 
as  in  the  large,  God  is  equally  profuse  of  life.  Not  a 
leaf,  not  a  drop  of  water,  but  has  its  appropriate  in- 
habitants, and  even  the  air  is  peopled  by  various  races. 
In  that  realm  are  some  beings  of  wonderful  intellect  and 
wisdom,  and  some  of  implacable  malignity,  and  the  in- 


152  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

tercourse  once  gained,  no  instruction  or  guidance  can 
avail  to  secure  the  one  or  evade  the  other.  Step  by  step 
must  the  pupil  himself  dare,  and  choose,  and  repel.  To 
penetrate  the  barriers  separating  them  from  us,  the  soul 
must  be  sharpened  by  enthusiasm  and  purified  from 
earthly  desires.  To  the  unprepared  the  region  is  one  of 
horror,  for  the  first  thing  to  be  encountered  is  a  being 
surpassing  all  others  in  malevolence  and  hate,  the  Dwell- 
er on  the  Threshold. 

Then  the  master  shows  him  how  simply  some  effects, 
which  seem  wild  cheats  of  the  senses,  can  be  performed, 
and  gives  him  tasks  requiring  vigilant  attention,  and 
minute  calculation.  The  results  of  these  fill  Glyndon 
with  astonishment,  though  the  last  steps  by  which  they 
are  achieved  are  not  communicated,  but  reserved  until 
Mejnour  deems  his  pupil  worthy. 

After  much  labor  and  intercourse  of  this  kind,  Glyn- 
don *s  progress  encourages  Mejnour  to  leave  him  for  one 
month,  during  the  solitude  of  which  other  tasks  are  to 
be  performed,  and  his  mind  prepared  by  austere  thought 
for  farther  advance.  As  an  ordeal,  the  key  of  Mei- 
nour's room  is  entrusted  to  him  with  the  injunction  that 
the  chamber  must  not  be  entered,  that  the  lamps  in  it 
are  not  to  be  lighted,  and  he  is  warned  that  this  very 
temptation  is  a  part  of  his  trial. 

For  some  days  Glyndon  is  absorbed  in  his  work,  but 
soon  his  tasks  are  all  completed,  and  he  finds  his  thoughts 
dwelling  on  the  forbidden  room.  He  strives  by  bodily 
fatigue  to  subdue  his  mind,  and  takes  long  walks.  One 
day  his  steps  lead  him  where  peasants  hold  a  festival. 
Among  the  dancers  is  a  young  girl  of  great  beauty,  who 


ZANONI  153 

attracts  him  so  much  that  when  he  is  invited  to  join 
them  he  does  so,  and  dances  with  Fillide,  flirts  with  her, 
and  arranges  to  meet  her  again.  A  decrepit  old  man 
to  whom  he  gives  alms  advises  him  to  enjoy  his  youth, 
saying,  '^I  too  was  once  young." 

On  the  morrow  this  phrase  keeps  ringing  in  his  ear, 
and  his  tasks  become  distasteful.  He  determines  not  to 
wait  for  Menjour's  return,  but  to  master  the  secrets 
alone.  He  enters  the  forbidden  chamber,  reads  from  a 
large  book,  left  open  at  a  page  which  seemed  to  antici- 
pate his  act,  for  it  gave  instructions  which  he  followed ; 
he  lights  the  lamps  and  unstoppers  one  of  the  vials. 
Hearing  his  servant 's  voice  he  recloses  the  vase,  and  goes 
to  learn  his  errand.  Paolo  expresses  surprise  at  his 
improved  appearance,  gives  him  a  message  from  Fillide, 
and  a  letter  from  Mejnour  announcing  his  return  next 
day.  Having  disobeyed  the  master 's  injunctions,  Glyn- 
don  realizes  that  he  must  take  advantage  of  the  brief 
time  left  him.  He  meets  Fillide,  then  hastens  back,  en- 
ters the  room  and  proceeds  as  instructed  by  the  book. 
He  lights  the  nine  lamps,  and  inhales  the  essence.  Icy 
coldness  is  succeeded  by  exhilaration.  The  lights  grow 
dim,  and  he  perceives  airy  shapes  gliding  around,  and 
he  hears  as  it  were  ghosts  of  voices.  Presently  he  be- 
comes aware  of  a  more  horrifying  presence,  which  by 
degrees  shapes  itself  to  his  sight.  What  he  sees  is  like 
a  human  head  covered  with  a  dark  veil,  through  which 
glare  eyes  that  freeze  him  with  terror.  Gliding  or 
crawling  like  some  misshapen  reptile  the  Thing  ad- 
vances toward  him,  and  speaks.  His  agony  becomes  un- 
bearable.    He  falls  to  the  floor  insensible  and  knows 


154  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

no  more  till  noon  next  day,  when  he  finds  himself  in 
bed,  and  learns  that  Mejnour  had  arrived  and  departed 
again,  leaving  a  letter  in  which  while  dismissing  him  as 
unworthy  of  the  brotherhood,  since  incapable  of  ab- 
stinence from  the  sensual,  lacking  patience,  and  scant 
of  faith,  he  proceeds  to  warn  him  that  having  disobe- 
diently quaffed  the  elixir  he  has  awakened  powers  that, 
properly  directed,  might  lead  to  high  achievement,  but 
he  has  also  thereby  attracted  to  his  presence  a  remorse- 
less foe,  and  that  only  by  strong  effort  could  he  regain 
his  accustomed  calm;  that  by  resolute  resistance  to  the 
thoughts  by  which  it  tempted,  and  brave  disregard  of 
the  horror  it  engendered,  its  power  to  harm  could  be 
conquered,  but  that  he  must  endure  its  presence  and 
wrestle  with  its  temptations,  since  none  could  exorcise 
the  foe  he  had  invoked,  which  is  most  to  be  dreaded 
when  unseen.  Thus  the  loftier  world,  for  which  he  had 
thirsted,  and  sacrificed,  and  toiled,  is  closed  from  him 
forever  by  his  own  fault. 

A  feeling  of  indignation  against  Mejnour  arises,  and 
he  tries  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  been  deluded, 
and  that  he  had  not  really  seen  the  Thing.  And  though 
Mejnour  had  denied  him  his  science,  he  still  has  his  art^ 
and  to  that  he  now  reverts.  He  revisits  the  fatal  room 
and  finds  it  denuded  of  all  save  the  simplest  furniture, 
then  returning  to  his  own  chamber,  begins  to  sketch  a 
scene  he  had  heard  described  by  Mejnour.  Absorbed 
in  his  subject,  he  works  on  until  the  air  grows  chill,  the 
lights  dim,  and  again  the  mantled  Thing  is  in  the  room 
and  nearing  him.  Despite  all  the  courage  he  can  sum- 
mon he  is  unable  to  withstand  the  horror  it  produces. 


ZANONI  155 

With  a  violent  effort  he  breaks  from  the  room  and  hast- 
ens from  the  place. 

He  searches  for  Mejnour  everywhere,  but  unavailing- 
ly.  With  Fillide  as  companion,  or  in  dissipation  or 
riot,  he  is  freed  from  the  sight  of  the  foe,  but  whenever 
he  turns  to  something  worthy,  it  becomes  visible  and  ap- 
palling. Mejnour  meets  him  and  again  reminds  him 
that  only  by  resistance  can  the  haunting  terror  be  mas- 
tered —  that  when  unseen  it  is  most  to  be  dreaded ;  that 
now  it  is  shaping  his  every  step,  marshalling  him  toward 
Paris,  where  his  destiny  will  be  fulfilled.  In  an  at- 
tempt to  act  as  Mejnour  directs,  Glyndon  goes  to  Lon- 
don, and  in  the  society  of  his  sister  endures  and  resists, 
but  desiring  sympathy,  he  confides  his  tale  to  her,  and 
the  recital  so  affects  her  as  to  cause  her  death.  Thence- 
forth Glyndon  has  no  friend.  He  plunges  into  dissipa- 
tion, joins  Fillide  again,  and  takes  up  his  abode  in  Paris. 

Believing  the  objects  of  the  revolutionary  leaders  to 
be  high  and  noble,  he  becomes  an  active  ally.  When  he 
sees  his  error  and  plans  to  abandon  Paris,  Fillide  be- 
trays him.  In  his  extremity  he  is  rescued  by  Zanoni, 
who  has  reached  Paris  in  his  search  for  Viola,  and  who 
counsels  Glyndon,  encourages  him,  and  provides  for 
his  return  to  England,  where,  followdng  Zanoni 's  injunc- 
tions, he  finds  deliverance. 

Zanoni  typifies  Poetry,  the  highest  manifestation  of 
art,  the  noblest  result  of  the  imaginative  exercise  of 
man 's  intellect ;  seeming  national  to  each  modern  race, 
though  of  origin  more  antique  than  any;  unaffected 
and  calm,  but  capable  of  profound  feeling  and  inspiring 
to    action;    disdaining    the    ordinary    objects    of    am- 


156  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

bition,  and  careless  of  honors  or  awards;  yet  inter- 
ested in  every  worthy  aspiration,  and  encouraging  and 
aiding  every  well  intentioned  application  of  ^knowledge 
or  effort.  Regarded  as  a  magician  by  the  vulgar,  as  a 
god  by  the  simple,  he  awes,  disturbs,  daunts,  and  warns 
from  evil,  rouses  enthusiasm,  and  incites  to  emulation 
of  the  heroic,  and  to  reverence  for  the  good,  less  by 
counsel  than  by  suggestion,  for  men  become  more  ad- 
mirable in  their  lives  merely  by  associating  with  him. 

Accustomed  to  intense  concentration,  he  is  thereby 
enabled  to  exercise  insight  and  foresight.  Familiar 
with  that  Ideal  World  which  envelopes  the  known  as  the 
atmosphere  surrounds  the  earth,  he  communes  with  the 
habitants  of  that  realm,  and  is  elevated  and  illumined 
by  beings  and  ideas  more  splendid  than  ordinary  ex- 
perience gives  occasion  for. 

But  his  acquirements  and  powers  need  for  their  con- 
tinued growth  and  exercise  the  absolute  absence  of  all 
that  disturbs  or  disquiets,  because  for  the  accomplish- 
ing of  whatever  is  great,  the  clear  perception  of  truths 
adapted  to  the  object  desired  is  the  first  requisite,  and 
only  in  a  state  of  perfect  serenity  is  the  mind  capable 
of  apprehending  such  truths.  Therefore  human  affec- 
tion is  incompatible  with  high  attainment  in  art,  and  is 
a  fatal  peril  to  Zanoni,  and  when  he  submits  to  its  in- 
fluence the  relinquishing  of  his  privileges  and  powers 
necessarily  follows. 

The  dream  that  love  can  be  exalted  proves  delusive, 
for  affection  extinguishes  aspiration  in  the  wife,  whose 
ambitions  contract  into  the  one  desire  to  monopolize  her 
husband's  attentions.    Nor  by  mutual  interest  in  off- 


ZANONI  157 

spring  can  ascent  to  higher  things  be  facilitated,  for  the 
mother  is  stronger  than  the  wife,  and  suspects  and  mis- 
construes all  interference  with  her  child.  The  result- 
ing cares  and  anxieties,  the  exactions  of  the  trivial,  de- 
stroy serenity,  and  draw  the  lofty  down  to  the  common- 
place; and  despite  his  efforts  and  designs,  whelm  him 
into  the  actual,  where  he  perishes.  But  with  the  real- 
ization of  his  failure  he  is  taught  that  the  brightest  of 
his  spelled  visitants  is  but  an  adumbration  of  the  glories 
beyond ;  that  this  world  was  never  intended  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  such  life  as  the  artist  conceives;  that  faith 
is  the  necessary  completion  of  imagination;  that  death 
should  be  welcomed  as  the  beginning  of  a  continually 
ascending  existence;  and  that  the  sacrifice  of  life  is 
wiser  than  the  mistaken  endeavor  to  secure  its  continu- 
ance here,  where  its  possibilities  are  limited  and 
dwarfed. 

Mejnour  personifies  science,  the  product  of  reason- 
ing; which  examining,  measuring,  and  comparing  con- 
tinually, augments  the  actual  knowledge  of  all  material 
things.  Reasoning  is  not  congenial  to  youth,  which 
feels  keenly  and  permits  sympathy  and  emotion  to  in- 
terfere with  and  distort  its  conclusions.  Mejnour  has 
outlived  these  influences.  He  is  passionless,  and  calm, 
and  old. 

Science  begins  with  conjecture,  proceeding  thence  by 
investigation,  observation,  and  deduction,  to  verify  its 
guess.  Therefore  the  Ideal  World  of  the  Imagination 
is  included  in  Mejnour 's  sphere  of  comprehension,  and 
when  Viola,  impelled  by  her  anxiety  and  trouble,  dis- 
obeys her  husband's  injunction   and   seeks  to  behold 


158  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Zanoni  and  Mejnour,  the  scene  in  which  they  are  re- 
vealed to  her  visualizes  the  nebular  hypothesis,  where 
Imagination  and  Reasoning  have  a  common  ground; 
and  as  all  art  must  be  founded  on  acquired  knowledge 
and  study,  it  is  Mejnour 's  function  to  school  and  pre- 
pare the  neophyte,  and  so  Glyndon  becomes  his  pupil. 

Glyndon  represents  Youth,  with  desires,  aspirations, 
and  intentions,  but  imperfect  in  discipline  and  averse 
to  continued  perseverance.  From  study  he  is  allured 
by  pleasure.  Affection  attracts  him,  but  before  its 
power  is  confirmed  he  is  fascinated  by  the  mysterious, 
and  yearns  to  become  higher  than  his  kind.  Deficient 
in  probity,  patience,  and  faith,  he  fails  to  win  the  re- 
wards he  sought,  and  his  sensitiveness  to  the  opinions 
of  others  subjects  him  to  humiliation  and  fear,  to  evade 
which  he  resorts  to  dissipation.  The  nobler  possibilities 
which  have  been  disclosed  to  him,  from  time  to  time  re- 
call to  worthy  effort,  which  fear  as  continually  causes 
him  to  abandon,  and  his  life  is  perturbed  and  harassed 
and  unhappy,  until  he  obeys  the  injunction  to  return 
to  the  scenes  and  friends  of  childhood,  and  regain  there 
the  calm  which  contrasts  ambition,  the  orderliness  re- 
sulting from  the  discharge  of  simple  duties,  and  that 
contentment  which  can  only  be  found  by  limiting  the 
wants  and  desires.  He  whom  the  world's  abuse  affects, 
to  secure  his  own  peace  must  retire  into  obscurity. 

The  discipline  to  which  Glyndon  is  subjected  begins 
with  obedience,  the  first  duty  of  youth,  and  then  seeks 
to  develop  the  practice  of  resisting  natural  impulses 
and  desires.  Glyndon  is  told  to  ''master  Nature,  not 
lackey  her."     The   attitude  toward   Nature  thus  pre- 


ZANONI  159 

scribed  is  in  contradiction  to  the  vague  and  unsatisfac- 
tory manner  in  which  that  Force  is  usually  referred  to 
by  writers.  Nevertheless  its  correctness  has  many  evi- 
dences. 

The  wind  blows,  rustling  the  leaves  and  bending  the 
com,  and  apart  from  the  modification  of  temperature, 
there  ending  its  usefulness,  until  man  interferes  by 
hoisting  a  sail,  and  by  resisting,  derives  power  to  move 
boat  or  mill.  The  river  hurries  along  its  course,  con- 
tributing only  music  to  mankind,  until  a  dam  is  con- 
structed and  its  flowing  resisted.  Then  we  obtain  power 
to  move  machinery.  Currents  circled  the  earth  useless- 
ly for  ages,  until  man  discovered  a  method  of  interfer- 
ing with  them.  Now  by  resisting  these,  electricity  is 
harnessed. 

Resisting  or  mastering  Nature  has  given  us  most  of 
the  things  we  value.  Nature  seeks  to  propagate  living 
organisms  along  the  lines  of  the  normal.  Resisting  in- 
terference with  her  method  has  given  us  our  domestic 
animals  and  plants,  whose  progressive  advancement  is 
dependent  upon  man's  continued  interference.  Nature 
impels  the  boy  to  play.  His  teachers  interfere,  and 
thwart  Nature  to  the  boy's  gain  in  discipline  and  in- 
telligence; and  just  in  proportion  to  the  restraint  put 
upon  every  natural  appetite,  is  the  gain  in  health, 
strength,  and  development  of  the  individual.  He  who 
most  resists  advances  the  farthest. 

Glyndon  failed  in  resistance,  succumbed  to  tempta- 
tion, and  lost  the  boon  he  was  so  anxious  to  obtain. 

Viola  may  be  interpreted  as  Human  Affection,  duti- 
ful, cheerful,  and  ingenious  in  contributing  to  the  pleas- 


160  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF   BULWER 

ure  of  her  parents,  obedient,  trustful,  and  unaspiring 
as  a  wife,  watchful  and  suspicious  as  a  mother.  The 
mind  which  seemed  so  capable  of  high  development  in 
the  girl,  lapsesi  to  the  ordinary  in  the  wife,  and  becomes 
superstitious  in  the  mother.  With  the  best  intentions, 
she  thwarts  her  husband's  aims,  robs  Art  of  serenity, 
and  drags  the  artist  down  to  the  man,  exacting  more 
than  she  gives,  embarrassing  more  than  she  aids,  doubt- 
ing instead  of  trusting,  and  unthinkingly  necessitating 
sacrifices  she  cannot  appreciate  until  too  late. 

The  Dweller  on  the  Threshold  is  that  department 
of  the  periodical  press,  which,  as  an  instrument  of 
Hate,  assails  all  who  dare  to  do  something  great,  and 
strives  to  blast  every  worthy  fame.  It  can  be  placated, 
but  only  at  the  cost  of  debasement.  Its  attacks  can  be 
evaded,  but  only  by  accepting  its  counsel,  which  entails 
deterioration.  Its  harmful  influence  .extends  to  and 
affects  friends  and  familiars,  yet  it  is  powerless  to  in- 
jure if  resolutely  defied  and  ignored.  It  is  misshapen 
and  bestial,  for  falsity  and  distortion  are  its  supports. 
It  simulates  a  human  visage,  for  it  affects  to  be  the 
product  of  human  beings.  It  is  veiled  because  secret, 
and  its  eyes  are  its  most  conspicuous  feature,  for  it 
spies  upon  every  act  of  him  who  is  advanced  beyond 
the  ordinary. 

Nicot  has  his  equivalent  in  any  of  the  numerous  de- 
basers  of  art,  who  elucidate  and  approve  the  mean  and 
vile,  abuse  those  whose  pursuits  are  cleanly  and  lofty, 
call  themselves  realists,  and  sometimes  display  a  capac- 
ity to  comprehend  and  praise  a  trivial  achievement  or 
some  detail  of  little  consequence. 


ZANONI  161 

In  grandeur  and  wholeness  of  conception,  harmony 
of  component  parts,  structural  completeness,  wisdom 
and  beauty  of  observation  and  reflection,  and  sublimity 
of  the  catastrophe,  no  work  in  any  form  excels  this ;  and 
in  Zanoni,  Bulwer  created  a  character  than  which  there 
is  none  more  original  and  elevated  in  literature. 

The  highest  intellectual  creations  in  poetry  (tran- 
scending humanity,  but  accepted  as  possible)  are  the 
Prometheus  of  Jiischylus,  the  Satan  of  Milton,  the 
Mephistopheles  of  Goethe,  and  the  Zanoni  of  Bulwer. 

Prometheus  the  demigod  is  displayed  in  a  fragment 
only.  He  endures  the  punishments  inflicted  by  Zeus, 
knowing  that  they  must  terminate,  and  that  death  is  im- 
possible. He  is  an  august  representation  of  the  virtue 
of  fortitude.  Satan  embodies  the  characteristics  of 
pride,  baffled  and  malignant,  and  for  him  also  death  is 
impossible.  Mephistopheles  is  a  mockery  of  man's 
worldly  wisdom,  producing  great  effects  by  trivial 
means,  and  in  the  best  known  first  part  of  Faust  his 
supreme  achievement  is  the  ruin  of  a  simple  girl.  Za- 
noni by  austerities,  stern  studies,  and  self-denial,  has  ac- 
quired the  possibility  of  continuing  his  earthly  existence 
indefinitely.  His  life  is  one  of  beneficence  and  inspira- 
tion to  others,  of  calm  joy  to  himself,  for  he  confers  at 
will  with  the  beings  of  a  higher  world,  and  is  dowered 
with  strange  powers  and  understanding.  When  by  ad- 
mitting affection  into  his  life  he  jeopardizes  his  priv- 
ileges, he  need  only  await  the  ordinary  course  of  na- 
ture, and  he  would  outlive  love,  and  reconquer  his  for- 
mer realm.  But  oblivious  to  faults  in  his  human  part- 
ner, he  subordinates  self,  and  to  secure  the  transient 


162  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

safety  and  well-being  of  the  wife  who  deserted  him,  he 
nobly  sacrifices  his  glorious  existence;  realizing  that 
what  his  brightest  visions  disclosed  here  was  but  a  dim 
shadowing  of  the  glories  beyond,  where  conditions  do  not 
militate  against  advancement,  and  where  companionship 
with  the  beloved  is  assured.  The  character  of  Zanoni, 
the  incidents  which  mark  his  career,  and  the  death 
which  he  voluntarily  ai^cepts  as  the  end  of  his  earthly 
existence,  are  alike  unique,  consistent,  and  original,  and 
place  this  work  amongst  the  highest  of  literary  produc- 
tions. 

Zanoni  was  published  in  1842,  but  under  the  title  of 
Zicci  a  version  of  the  story  had  previously  appeared 
piecemeal  in  the  Monthly  Chronicle  beginning  March, 
1838.  In  Zicci  the  description  of  the  musician  and  his 
home  had  no  place.  It  commenced  with  what  is  now 
the  first  chapter  of  the  second  book,  and  only  advanced 
to  the  incident  of  Glyndon's  intrusion  on  Mejnour 
(chapter  two,  book  four).  The  Monthly  Chronicle 
adopted  views  on  the  corn  laws  obnoxious  to  the  opin- 
ions of  Bulwer,  who  thereupon  abruptly  ended  his  con- 
nection with  the  journal,  and  Zicci  remained  a  fragment 
until  in  Zanoni  the  author  developed  his  material  into 
the  equivalent  of  an  epic. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS 

THE  confused  and  inadequately  recorded  events 
and  movements  of  the  period  of  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses,  treated  perfunctorily  by  older  historians, 
and  by  later  writers  with  that  cockiness  which  distin- 
guishes the  person  educated  at  Oxford,  receive  their  first 
and  only  satisfactory  exposition  in  The  Last  of  the  Bar- 
ons, and  the  information,  impartiality,  and  reasonableness 
of  the  romancist  is  in  suggestive  contrast  to  the  extrava- 
gance of  the  professional  historians  who  get  rid  of  diffi- 
culties by  inebriate  hypotheses.  When  some  investigator 
shall  undertake  the  elucidation  of  times  past,  unembar- 
rassed by  preconceived  theory,  not  necessarily  hostile  to 
long  established  beliefs,  nor  determinedly  contemptuous 
of  common  sense,  something  trustworthy  and  of  value 
may  be  forthcoming  in  a  branch  of  literature  where  Eng- 
lishmen have  not  yet  distinguished  themselves.  Until 
then.  The  Last  of  the  Barons  is  as  indispensable  to  the 
student  of  English  history  as  it  is  charming  and  stimu- 
lating to  the  appreciator  of  art. 

The  Wars  of  the  Roses  grew  out  of  the  arbitrary  use 
of  power  by  Queen  Margaret  and  her  favorites,  who  ex- 
ercised and  abused  the  authority  of  the  weak:  king.  The 
barons  resisted  the  attempts  at  despotism  and  were  sup- 
ported by  the  people,  who  were  estranged  by  the  im- 
potent and  corrupt  rule.     A  change  of  ministers  was 


164  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

the  usual  object  of  the  risings,  but  always  occasion  was 
quickly  found  for  dismissing  the  new  and  reappointing 
the  old,  and  at  last  it  became  necessary  to  change  the 
dynasty. 

Long  before  institutions  lose  their  popularity,  the 
qualities  men  valued  in  them  have  disappeared.  The 
dignitaries  of  the  church  have  grown  worldly,  avar- 
icious, and  negligent,  before  people  tire  of  the  church. 
Nobles  have  become  sordid  and  unworthy  before  aris- 
tocracy is  disliked;  and  kingliness  has  departed  before 
monarchy  becomes  distasteful.  And  it  is  an  easier  task 
to  establish  something  substitutional  than  to  restore  an 
institution  which  has  once  been  discredited. 

The  Lancastrians  having  sunk  in  the  general  estima- 
tion by  persisting  in  maintaining  unpopular  ministers  in 
their  service,  were  driven  from  power,  and  Edward  of 
York  was  installed  as  king.  He  proved  as  objectionable 
as  his  predecessor,  and  was  dethroned  by  Warwick,  who 
restored  Henry.  That  was  the  great  Earl's  fatal  mis- 
take. Had  he  assumed  the  crown  himself,  his  ability, 
energy,  and  popularity  would  have  made  him  a  distin- 
guished sovereign,  and  England  would  have  been  spared 
further  civil  war  and  saved  from  the  despotism  which, 
beginning  with  Edward  IV,  was  matured  under  the 
Tudors.  As  it  was,  nothing  had  occurred  to  justify 
more  favorable  expectations  from  the  house  of  Lancaster 
by  those  who  had  suffered  from  it,  and  the  loyal  sup- 
porters of  that  house  were  suspicious  of  the  new  allies. 
Therefore  Edward,  landing  at  Ravenspur  with  few 
friends,  by  resorting  to  perjury  soon  found  himself  pos- 
sessed of  an  army,  with  which  he  recovered  his  crown 
by  defeating  Warwick  at  Barnet. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  165 

The  last  four  years  of  the  King-maker's  life  supply 
the  material  of  The  Last  of  the  Barons,  and  give  oc- 
casion for  the  introduction  of  historical  characters 
whose  acts  and  motives  are  examined  with  a  determina- 
tion to  be  just,  which  results  in  each  portrait  being  re- 
liable and  convincing;  for  descriptions  of  the  gay  court 
of  Edward  IV,  the  appearance  of  London,  the  pastimes, 
pursuits,  and  political  attachments  of  its  citizens,  the 
pomp  and  bearing  of  the  barons,  the  evil  and  shame  of 
civil  war;  and  for  incidental  consideration  of  the  pre- 
vailing disregard  for  law,  the  ostentation  and  greed  of 
the  church,  the  suppressed  dissatisfaction  of  the  Lol- 
lards, and  the  prosperity  and  growing  influence  of  the 
traders.  Of  costume  and  the  picturesque  there  is  merely 
sufficient.  It  is  the  purposes,  passions,  and  minds  of  the 
personages  with  which  we  are  made  acquainted,  and  the 
actual  sequence  of  events  is  adhered  to. 

Edward  the  Fourth  is  made  endurable,  notwithstand- 
ing his  deceitful,  untruthful,  and  cruel  disposition,  his 
vicious  and  intemperate  behavior,  and  his  mean  aims. 
Personal  advantages  supplied  his  only  claims  to  respect. 
Of  other  qualities  he  had  courage  enough  to  be  fero- 
cious, wit  enough  to  cajole  shopkeepers,  ambition  enough 
to  impel  to  emulation  of  the  jackass,  and  that  was  all. 
He  claimed  and  obtained  credit  for  victories  won  under 
the  leadership  of  Hastings  and  Warwick.  Without  such 
men,  he  never  even  appeared  successful;  and  whenever 
possible  he  shirked  fighting.  Many  Lancastrian  nobles, 
reconciling  themselvesi  to  a  change  of  king,  transferred 
their  allegiance  to  him  in  the  hope  that  efficient  govern- 
ment would  be  instituted,  but  his  disreputable  court  and 
lazy  incapacity  soon  disgusted  them,  and  confirmed  their 


166  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

preference  for  the  gentler  imbecile  as  ruler.  Hastings 
alone  of  able  men  remained  constant  and  satisfied  with 
the  king,  and  this  arose  from  their  similarity  in  vicious- 
ness.  Some  brute  bravery,  much  ostentation,  and  ex- 
cessive dissipation  gained  Edward  popularity  in  his  own 
day.  His  successes  and  the  title  of  king  have  influenced 
subsequent  judgments  in  his  favor.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  was  a  bigamist,  a  perjurer,  and  a  fratricide,  and  rivals 
in  infamy  even  the  brother  with  whom  his  evil  line  ter- 
minated. 

The  measures  with  which  Edward  identified  himself 
were  the  farcical  invasion  of  France;  the  adulteration 
of  the  old  nobility ;  and  the  encouragement  of  the  trader 
as  a  rival  in  power  to  the  baron.  Each  of  these  had  a 
selfish  origin,  and  ignored  where  it  did  not  harm  the 
majority  of  the  people.  Indeed,  the  greatest  injury  to 
the  masses  results  from  the  power  and  practices  of  the 
commercial  class.  The  patricians  and  the  people  are 
both  patriotic,  and  their  interests  are  the  same,  but  the 
trader  is  philanthropic  at  least  in  theory,  though  the 
professed  love  for  humanity  at  large  is  more  frequently 
an  excuse  for  not  doing  anything  than  an  incentive  to 
wide  activities  on  behalf  of  mankind.  The  trader  is  al- 
ways envious  of  the  class  above  him,  and  scornful  of 
those  below.  He  uses  the  latter  to  gain  his  own  ends, 
but  monopolizes  all  the  accruing  benefits.  He  demands 
votes  for  all  in  national  matters,  but  is  careful  to  con- 
serve absolute  sway  over  his  factories,  workshops,  and 
newspapers.  If  his  opinions  on  these  things  were  dis- 
interested, he  would  give  to  his  employes  the  right  to 
elect  their  own  managers  and  to  scrutinize  the  balance 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  167 

sheet,  for  surely  that  which  is  good  in  national  affairs 
cannot  be  bad  in  lesser  things. 

The  craft  and  dissimulation  of  Gloucester,  the  Italian 
wile  he  had  mastered  and  put  into  practice,  the  affected 
humility  and  consideration  for  others  by  which  he 
masked  his  vast  ambition,  his  real  ability,  wisdom,  and 
determination,  are  all  bodied  forth  in  the  sinister  por- 
traiture of  the  scholar-brother  and  adviser  of  Edward. 
Accurate  in  detail  and  more  discriminating  than  ordin- 
ary characterizations,  there  is  nevertheless  no  endeavor 
to  render  Richard  amiable.  The  impression  he  arouses 
is  still  that  of  one  with  potentialities  and  disposition 
likely  to  justify  the  evil  repute  in  which  his  name  is  gen- 
erally held. 

Warwick  is  depicted  as  a  brave  warrior  and  wise 
statesman,  whose  large  father-like  heart,  dauntless  spirit, 
and  unfailing  generosity  endeared  him  to  his  own  class, 
and  made  him  beloved  by  every  grade  of  the  people  ex- 
cept the  traders,  whose  affections  he  alienated  by  his  un- 
disguised contempt  for  their  meanness  of  spirit.  He 
was  constant  in  his  resistance  to  despotic  encroachments 
by  the  crown,  in  opposing  religious  persecution,  and  in 
promoting  the  weal  of  the  masses.  The  brief  glimpses 
of  his  family  circle  reflect  the  fact  that  after  St.  Albans 
the  busy  soldier,  administrator,  and  envoy  virtually  had 
no  home  life,  and  are  further  true  in  displaying  the 
household  treason  which  Clarence  ^s  marriage  with  the 
Lady  Isabel  introduced  there.  The  personal  charm 
which  gained  his  unexampled  popularity  is  indicated  by 
the  devotion  which  resulted  from  his  interview  with 
Marmaduke.     It  had  more  august  effects,  for  he  won 


168  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

from  Louis  XI  whatever  of  affection  that  monarch  was 
capable  of  feeling.  The  confidence  reposed  in  his  jus- 
tice by  the  people  is  evidenced  by  the  alacrity  with  which 
the  insurgents  at  Olney  departed  to  their  homes  ' '  at  his 
word."  His  toleration  is  shown  by  the  attention  he  be- 
stowed upon  Hilyard ;.  while  his  desire  for  good  govern- 
ment and  for  enduring  peace  are  proofs  not  alone  of 
his  love  for  England  and  all  her  people,  but  of  his  wis- 
dom and  comprehension  —  for  the  measures  he  advo- 
cated were  admirably  calculated  to  effect  the  object  de- 
sired. 

His  mistakes  were  all  the  result  of  his  qualities.  Proud 
and  patriotic,  he  cared  not  for  the  title  of  king,  but  de- 
sired good  government.  Therefore  when  Henry  and  his 
Queen  persisted  in  arbitrary  proceedings,  he  placed  Ed- 
ward on  the  throne;  and  when  the  outrages  of  the  new 
king  made  it  necessary  to  drive  him  out  of  the  land,  he 
tried  to  replace  in  power  one  who  had  already  failed. 
Hot-tempered  and  magnanimous,  he  could  forgive 
slights,  but  not  a  dishonoring  insult  to  his  child;  and 
therefore  he  rose  against  the  Tarquin  he  had  kinged. 
Frank  and  chivalrous,  he  was  above  suspecting  Clar- 
ence, and  so  he  was  deceived  and  deserted. 

No  personage  of  the  time  stands  out  so  loftily  admir- 
able and  clean.  The  last  of  the  barons  was  also  the 
greatest  and  purest  in  conduct,  sympathy,  and  purpose. 
Ever  mindful  of  the  people,  he  was  the  kingliest  man  in 
England,  and  it  was  unfortunate  that  he  contented  him- 
self with  being  no  more  than  king-maker. 

The  cause  of  Warwick's  defection  as  accepted  by  Bul- 
wer  has  ample  warrant  in  the  chronicles  of  Hall  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  169 

others,  it  is  in  harmony  with  the  character  of  Edward. 
It  explains  as  nothing  else  does  the  suddenness  of  the 
change,  and  the  after  avoidance  of  the  court  by  the  Lady 
Anne  affords  it  a  suggestive  support. 

It  is  customary  to  ignore  the  utter  worthlessness  of 
Edward  and  to  see  in  his  success  over  Warwick  the  al- 
leged good  of  the  emergence  into  importance  of  the  com- 
mercial class  —  as  if  the  end  could  justify  the  means. 
In  The  Mahabarata  there  is  a  myth  ascribing  the  condi- 
tion of  the  earth  to  the  original  sin  of  a  god,  whose  mis- 
deeds mankind  are  unconsciously  expiating.  It  is  more 
in  consonance  with  this  idea  that  one  who  was  noble, 
wise,  and  magnanimous  should  fall,  and  a  mean,  false 
profligate  triumph. 

The  outlaw,  Robin  of  Redesdale,  whom  travel  in  Eu- 
rope had  made  a  hater  of  war  and  advocate  for  peace 
before  Edward's  atrocious  cruelty  transformed  him  into 
a  daring,  active  leader  of  rebels,  receives  sympathetic 
treatment.  All  which  characterised  the  representative 
man  —  the  bold  deeds  and  persuasive  eloquence  of  the 
champion  of  the  people  —  is  justly  appreciated;  but 
where  personal  animosity  obtruded,  his  proposals  are 
condemned.  Yet  the  conditions  and  experiences  which 
made  Hilyard  a  stirrer  up  of  strife  are  given,  if  not  as 
excuses  for  his  acts,  somewhat  in  justification.  Very 
pathetic  is  the  interview  after  his  arrest,  which  his  fol- 
lowers permitted  without  protest  or  resistance,  when  with 
crushed  spirit  he  complains  of  the  ingratitude  of  man, 
and  is  comforted  by  Warwick.  And  terrible  is  his 
death,  shattered  piecemeal  while  proclaiming  that  "the 
people  are  never  beaten. ' ' 


170  PEOSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

The  tumultuousness  and  rapid  succession  of  events 
and  complications  are  relieved  by  the  contrasting  ab- 
straction of  Adam  Warner,  and  the  devotion  of  his 
daughter  Sibyl.  Their  more  passive  experiences  illus- 
trate the  social  life,  the  state  of  learning,  the  prevalence 
of  superstition,  and  further  show  under  what  adverse 
conditions  science  was  pursued  by  the  scholar,  and  an 
unselfish  life  followed  by  the  virtuous,  in  a  masculine 
and  violent  age,  which  regarded  other  knowledge  than 
that  of  warfare  as  wizardry,  love  as  superfluous  weak- 
ness, and  woman  as  a  toy,  when  not  a  drudge. 

Adam  Warner  has  ceaselessly  toiled  at  the  "mechan- 
icar'  in  which  he  seeks  to  develop  the  idea  that  has 
become  his  tyrannical  master.  Old  age  has  come  prema- 
turely, fortune  and  prospects  have  been  surrendered, 
comforts  sacrificed,  wife  and  child  neglected  and  im- 
poverished, yet  the  task  is  not  completed  and  he  dis- 
covers new  needs  for  which  money  is  requisite ;  and  his 
means  are  exhausted.  In  his  intense  abstraction  he  acts 
unjustly  to  his  daughter,  and  the  retributive  indignities 
to  which  he  is  subjected  by  his  neighbors  awake  him  to 
the  thanklessness  of  those  for  whose  benefit  he  labors, 
and  to  the  wrong  he  has  done  her.  A  hazardous  but 
more  manly  method  of  securing  the  gold  he  needs  is  of- 
fered by  an  enthusiast  of  another  kind.  Despising  the 
danger,  he  undertakes  the  mission  which  takes  him  to 
the  Tower,  to  peril,  and  temptation.  A  pathway  to 
comfort  is  offered  him  if  he  abandons  his  idea,  but  he 
prefers  poverty  with  it.  At  court  he  finds  hindrance, 
not  aid;  elsewhere  only  hate.  From  the  powerful  earl 
who  distrusts  the  effect  of  his  perfected  invention  he  re- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  171 

ceives  the  sole  encouragement  and  countenance  he  ever 
enjoys,  and  when  that  protector  falls  on  the  battle- 
field, the  vengeance  of  the  vulgar  is  meted  out  to  the 
would-be  world-betterer,  and  the  *' Eureka"  and  its 
constructor  are  both  destroyed. 

Adam  Warner  mirrors  the  fate  of  genius  in  every 
age.  To  labor  for  man's  improvement  and  receive  hate 
in  return  is  the  lot  of  every  one  who  is  in  advance  of  his 
time.  Outside  his  own  hearth  rarely  will  he  find  sym- 
pathy, but  schemers  will  seek  to  use  him,  fools  to  pat- 
ronize. By  the  mean  —  earth's  many  —  he  will  be 
treated  injuriously,  and  the  reverence  of  the  affectionate 
and  admiration  of  the  noble  may  not  avail  to  save  him 
from  destruction  by  the  envious  and  malign. 

In  Sibyl  is  shown  devotion,  unselfishness,  and  courage 
in  their  most  beautiful  manifestation,  for  they  arise 
from  filial  affection.  Gentle,  proud,  and  cultured,  she  is 
less  concerned  about  her  own  hard  lot  than  sad  because 
of  her  father's  unhappiness.  She  humbles  herself  to 
win  bread  for  him,  her  faith  and  sympathy  never  fail. 
Wooed  by  young  lovers,  she  clings  to  him  who  needs 
her  most.  Tempted  where  she  loves,  she  is  steadfast; 
and  ever  in  the  rare  moments  when  happiness  seems 
near,  the  screeching  of  the  timbrel  players  dampens  her 
joy.  It  is  her  mission  to  prove  that  woman  is  nobler 
than  man  in  all  matters  of  duty,  and  that  the  fate  of  re- 
finement is  the  same  as  that  of  genius  in  a  coarse  and 
war  loving  age.  Her  life,  like  an  heroic  poem,  is  a  suc- 
cession of  noble  examples,  and  it  has  an  ending  as  pit- 
eous as  that  of  any  tragedy. 

The  great  achievements  in  The  Last  of  the  Barons  in- 


172  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

elude  the  comprehensive  epitomization  of  the  various 
characteristics  of  an  involved  period,  the  commanding 
vigor  of  the  active  personages,  and  the  simple  dignity 
and  brave  patience  of  the  passive  participants  in  the 
happenings  chronicled.  The  various  and  obscure  move- 
ments of  the  time  have  their  due  importance  accorded 
and  their  effects  set  forth  with  clearness.  The  descrip- 
tion of  the  battle  of  Bamet  is  terse,  vigorous,  and  intel- 
ligible. No  more  consistently  noble  hero  than  Warwick 
has  ever  been  portrayed,  and  the  embodiments  of  po- 
etry and  science — Sibyl  and  Adam  Warner  —  are 
among  the  highest  intellectual  characters  ever  conceived. 
This  work  was  published  in  January,  1843.  Bulwer 
intended  it  to  be  the  last  of  his  romances,  and  purposed 
devoting  his  attention  to  dramatic  productions.  But 
the  state  of  the  stage,  the  dearth  of  capable  actors,  and 
the  absence  of  the  requisite  conditions  for  the  efficient 
presentation  of  plays  intended  to  be  performed,  con- 
vinced him  that  further  dramatic  successes  were  not 
worth  striving  for  under  the  existing  circumstances,  ajid 
after  a  four  years'  interval  he  resumed  romance  writing. 

Richard  Neville  was  born  in  1428,  and  became  Earl 
of  Warwick  in  1449,  the  year  which  witnessed  the  col- 
lapse of  the  English  power  in  Prance  and  the  conse- 
quent intensification  of  the  popular  feeling  against  the 
reigning  Lancastrian  House,  to  whose  mismanagement 
was  charged  this  loss  and  other  evils.  The  king  of  Eng- 
land, Henry  VI,  was  meek,  pious,  and  imbecile,  and  the 
government  had  been  monopolized  by  the  queen,  Mar- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  173 

garet  of  Anjou,  who  was  detested.  The  misrule  of  her 
favorites  caused  the  breaking  out  of  insurrectionary 
movements,  that  of  Cade  being  one.  In  another,  Suf- 
folk, her  chief  minister,  was  caught  and  slain.  In  re- 
taliation the  Duke  of  York,  the  next  heir  to  the  throne, 
the  special  aversion  of  the  Court  party,  but  popular 
with  the  masses,  who  had  been  in  a  sort  of  exile  in  Ire- 
land, was  threatened  with  the  charge  of  treason  by  the 
queen.  This  brought  matters  to  a  crisis,  for  York 
crossed  from  Ireland,  gathered  his  retainers,  and 
marched  in  arms  to  London,  where  he  expostulated  with 
the  king  on  the  bad  government  of  the  country  and  the 
injustice  of  his  being  barred  from  his  councils.  A  change 
of  ministers  resulted,  and  four  years  of  antagonistic 
manifestos,  proclamations,  and  armed  demonstrations. 
Then  the  king  became  insane,  and  the  Parliament  made 
York  protector  of  the  realm.  And  at  this  very  time, 
after  nine  years  of  childlessness,  the  queen  gave  birth 
to  a  son.  After  an  incapacity  lasting  sixteen  months, 
during  which  the  management  of  affairs  was  satisfactory, 
Henry  recovered.  The  protector  was  displaced  and  the 
queen  resumed  control,  and  manifested  such  hostility  to 
York  that  in  self-defense  he  gathered  an  army  of  which 
"Warwick,  his  father  Salisbury,  and  their  adherents 
'made  part,  and  at  St.  Albans  the  first  of  the  battles  of 
the  Roses  was  fought  and  won  by  the  Yorkists,  largely 
through  the  daring  of  Warwick,  who  was  first  to  force 
his  way  into  the  town.  The  victors  marched  to  London 
and  secured  a  change  of  ministers,  which  was  all  they 
desired.     Again  Henry's  mind  gave  way.     Again  York 


174  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

was  appointed  regent,  but  in  a  few  months  the  king  re- 
covered and  relieved  him  of  office,  and  once  more  Mar- 
garet ruled,  intrigued,  and  practiced  treason. 

Meanwhile  Warwick  had  been  made  governor  of  Cal- 
ais in  1455,  to  which  was  added  the  post  of  captain  to 
guard  the  sea  in  1457.  His  ability,  bravery,  and  re- 
sourcefulness made  him  immensely  popular.  His  land 
operations  led  to  a  commercial  treaty  with  Flanders. 
He  developed  a  fleet  in  command  of  which  he  displayed 
courage,  tenacity,  and  skill,  and  made  important  cap- 
tures. Margaret  had  dismissed  all  the  other  Yorkists, 
but  had  been  satisfied  with  keeping  him  out  of  England. 
Now  his  achievements  attracted  her  attention  and  he 
was  summoned  to  London,  Where  a  plot  to  destroy  him 
had  been  arranged.  He  barely  escaped  with  his  life, 
but  he  got  back  to  Calais. 

The  rule  of  the  queen  had  the  realm  ''out  of  all  good 
governance,"  and  the  chief  aim  of  the  court  appeared 
to  be  the  destruction  of  the  Yorkist  party.  Movements 
indicating  a  design  against  York  and  Salisbury  similar 
to  that  which  so  nearly  succeeded  against  Warwick, 
compelled  another  recourse  to  arms,  and  the  earl  left 
Calais  and  joined  his  father.  They  soon  had  a  large 
army,  but  their  unwillingness  to  act  on  the  offensive  re- 
sulted in  wholesale  desertions  to  the  Lancastrians,  and 
the  rout  of  Ludford  compelled  the  Yorkist  leaders  to 
flee,  York  making  for  Ireland,  the  earl  and  his  father 
for  France. 

In  a  one-masted  fishing-smack  which  Warwick  himself 
steered  they  ran  to  Calais,  which  they  reached  before 
the  arrival  of  Somerset,  who  had  been  sent  to  supersede 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  175 

him.  The  next  four  months  were  occupied  in  operations 
against  the  newly-appointed  but  never  installed  gov- 
ernor. Then  Warwick  took  his  ships  to  Ireland,  in  or- 
der to  confer  with  his  uncle  and  arrange  their  future 
course.  A  plan  was  decided  upon,  and  the  earl  set  sail 
again  for  Calais.  A  fleet  was  waiting  to  intercept  him 
in  the  channel,  and  Warwick  prepared  for  fight;  but 
the  Lancastrians  found  that  the  sailors  would  not  arm 
against  their  old  commander,  and  fearing  desertions 
they  retired  into  Dartmouth,  and  the  earl  sailed  on. 

In  accordance  with  the  agreement  made  in  Ireland, 
Warwick  and  his  party  crossed  to  England.  They  is- 
sued a  manifesto  setting  forth  their  grievances  —  the 
weak  government,  the  crushing  taxes,  the  exclusion  of 
the  king's  relations  from  his  council,  and  other  com- 
plaints, and  marched  to  London,  their  numbers  increas- 
ing at  every  step.  At  St.  Paul's  Warwick  recited  the 
cause  of  their  coming,  and  made  oath  of  his  truth  and 
allegiance  to  the  king.  Then  they  moved  on  North- 
ampton, where  the  queen's  army  was  arrayed.  After 
fruitless  negotiations  battle  began,  but  treachery  among 
the  Lancastrians  resulted  in  a  Yorkist  success  after  half 
an  hour's  fighting.  Again  the  victors  contented  them- 
selves with  changing  the  ministry.  When  afterwards 
York  arrived  from  Ireland  and  claimed  the  throne,  War- 
wick resisted,  and  compelled  him  to  refer  the  matter  to 
Parliament,  which  decided  that  Henry  should  be  king 
for  life,  and  that  York  should  succeed  him,  thus  setting 
aside  the  queen  and  her  son. 

At  once  Margaret  stirred  up  the  Scots  to  invade  Eng- 
land, and  summoned  her  party  to  arms,  and  York  and 


176  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Salisbury  had  to  hurry  to  the  North  to  meet  and  dis- 
perse the  gathering.  The  queen's  army  was  far  larger 
than  they  had  anticipated.  They  were  themselves  as- 
sailed and  defeated,  and  both  lost  their  lives. 

"With  an  army  of  forty  thousand  flushed  with  victory, 
and  looting  everywhere,  Margaret  proceeded  southward. 
Warwick  had  to  assume  the  direction  of  the  government, 
and  also  provide  for  the  safety  of  his  party.  He  marched 
to  St.  Albans.  Being  outnumbered,  and  desertions  caus- 
ing dismay  among  his  followers,  he  was  beaten  by  the 
Lancastrians  and  retreated  westward,  whence  reenforce- 
ments  were  on  their  way.  Edward  of  March  (after- 
wards Edward  IV),  accompanied  by  Hastings,  after  a 
fight  at  Mortimer's  Cross,  was  leading  an  army  from 
Wales,  and  at  Chipping  Norton  he  and  Warwick  met, 
and  together  marched  on  London,  which  the  Lancaistrians 
had  not  occupied.  There  Edward  was  crowned  king. 
As  soon  as  the  festivities  were  concluded,  the  Yorkists 
hastened  against  their  enemy.  The  armies  met  at  Tow- 
ton,  and  there  the  most  desperate  and  sanguinary  battle 
of  the  war  took  place.  The  Yorkists  won,  and  the  count 
of  the  dead  showed  that  nearly  thirty  thousand  had  fal- 
len, of  whom  eight  thousand  —  one  in  six  —  were  of 
their  own  side.  In  the  battle  ''the  greatest  press  lay 
on  the  quarter  where  the  Earl  of  Warwick  stood,"  and 
it  fell  to  his  lot  to  disperse  the  straggling  foe  and  sub- 
jugate the  north,  which  with  the  assistance  of  his  brother 
Montagu  he  effected  after  months  of  hard  campaigning. 

Then  Warwick  was  able  to  turn  to  statesmanship.  He 
urged  a  treaty  of  peace  with  France,  a  farseeing  meas- 
ure he  had  long  had  at  heart,  which  might  be  cemented 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  BAEONS  177 

by  Edward's  marriage  with  a  French,  princess.  To  the 
council  met  to  approve  these  negotiations  the  king  sub- 
mitted one  objection.  He  had  already  married  Eliza- 
beth Woodville.  Warwick,  vexed  and  annoyed,  dropped 
for  a  time  the  proposed  embassy  to  Prance,  but  in  1465 
he  secured  the  agreement  of  Louis  XI  to  a  truce  of 
eighteen  months. 

In  1467  (when  The  Last  of  the  Barons  opens), 
Warwick  was  sent  to  France  to  turn  this  truce  into  a 
permanent  peace.  Edward's  apparently  honorable 
commission  was  either  intended  to  get  the  earl  out  of  the 
way,  while  he  himself  consummated  other  and  hostile 
plans,  or  events  turned  it  to  that  purpose.  For  during 
his  envoy's  absence  Edward  concluded  a  treaty  with 
Burgundy,  and  promised  the  hand  of  his  sister  to  Count 
Charles.  When  Warwick  returned,  he  found  his  em- 
bassy thus  dishonored,  and  his  plans  foiled.  He  was 
forty  year^  of  age.  He  had  trained  and  made  Edward. 
By  land  and  sea,  in  council  and  on  the  field,  he  had  so 
labored  that  activity  had  become  the  habit  of  his  life, 
and  he  now  found  that  the  king  for  whom  he  had  done 
so  much  was  capable  of  man's  meanest  vice,  ingratitude, 
and  that  his  services  were  unwelcome.  He  retired  to 
his  castle  of  Middleham. 

But  Warwick  was  the  best  beloved  man  in  the  king- 
dom, and  the  Woodvilles,  whom  the  king  was  bent  on 
advancing,  were  generally  disliked.  Risings  of  aggrieved 
Yorkists  broke  out,  and  the  Lancastrians  became  busy 
everywhere.  To  divert  the  attention  of  the  people  from 
affairs  at  home,  Edward  projected  another  war  with 
France;  and  to  strengthen  himself  with  the  nobles,  he 


178  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

induced  Warwick's  brother  to  bring  about  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  the  earl.  But  confidence  was  gone  forever, 
and  the  king's  efforts  to  prevent  the  marriage  of  Clar- 
ence with  Warwick's  daughter  was  another  affront.  The 
earl  resumed  his  life  at  Calais.  Insurrections  became 
common  in  England  and  grew  so  formidable  that  Ed- 
ward, finding  himself  in  danger,  wrote  supplicatingly 
for  the  earl 's  aid.  In  response  Warwick  came,  put  down 
one  revolt  ''by  his  word,"  crushed  another  on  the  bor- 
ders, and  made  the  king  secure.  Edward  now  spoke  of 
the  earl  and  his  brother  as  his  best  friends,  and  be- 
trothed his  eldest  daughter  to  Warwick's  nephew,  the 
male  heir  of  the  family. 

Three  months  afterward  the  earl  became  a  rebel, 
stern,  determined,  and  implacable.  The  time  was  the 
very  worst  that  could  have  been  chosen,  and  shows  that 
preparations  and  forethought  had  no  part  in  the  change. 
AH  we  know  of  the  earl  shows  him  as  a  man  of  "unde- 
signing  frankness  and  openness" ;  and  it  is  not  consistent 
with  human  nature  that  one  whose  every  day  had  been 
given  to  active  operations  should  in  his  maturity  trans- 
form himself  into  a  dissimulating  plotter.  Had  he  de- 
sired the  dethronement  of  Edward,  it  was  only  neces- 
sary for  him  to  have  abstained  from  interference  when 
Edward  was  in  jeopardy  from  the  army  under  Corners. 
But  it  was  not  until  after  he  had  relieved  the  king  by 
dismissing  the  hostile  army  that  any  dissatisfaction 
with  Edward  was  manifested.  An  insurrection  occurred 
in  Lincolnshire.  The  king  defeated  it,  and  then  an- 
nounced that  the  confession  of  the  ringleader  —  a  Lan- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BARONS  179 

castrian  —  implicated  Warwick  as  the  instigator  of  the 
rising;  and  declaring  the  earl  and  Clarence  traitors  Ed- 
ward moved  his  army  to  effect  their  arrest.  Warwick 
and  his  family  fled  to  France,  and  the  king  was  seem- 
ingly freed  from  danger. 

Louis  XI  brought  about  an  alliance  between  the  earl 
and  Margaret,  articles  of  marriage  were  signed  between 
the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Lady  Anne,  and  presently 
Warwick  landed  in  England,  where  he  found  the  shores 
crowded  with  armed  men  ready  to  welcome  him.  He 
hastened  with  his  army  toward  the  king.  Near  Notting- 
ham they  came  together.  In  the  night  desertions  from 
Edward's  army  compelled  him  to  fly  with  a  few  follow- 
ers. He  found  refuge  in  Burgundy;  and  within  eleven 
days  of  his  landing  Warwick  was  master  of  England, 
had  replaced  Henry  on  the  throne,  and  summoned  a 
new  Parliament. 

The  restoration  was  popular,  save  with  the  Yorkist 
nobles,  the  traders  of  London,  and  Clarence.  Unsus- 
pected by  Warwick  his  son-in-law  was  intriguing  and 
corresponding  with  Edward.  The  earl  made  watchful 
dispositions  for  resisting  any  hostile  landing,  but  Ed- 
ward with  five  hundred  men,  disembarking  at  Raven- 
spur  where  preparations  had  not  been  made,  and  send- 
ing messengers  to  say  to  the  people  that  he  came  not  to 
dispossess  King  Henry  but  to  claim  his  own  duchy,  and 
protesting  and  taking  oath  that  ''he  never  would  again 
take  upon  himself  to  be  king  of  England,"  he  was  al- 
lowed to  proceed,  gathering  troops  all  the  while.  Mont- 
agu, misled  by  a  letter  from  Clarence,  forbore  to  dis- 


180  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF   BULWER 

pute  Edward's  progress,  and  he  reached  Nottingham, 
where  others  joined  him,  and  then  throwing  aside  pre- 
tense he  had  himself  proclaimed  king. 

Warwick  gathered  his  forces  hurriedly  and  marched 
to  meet  his  foes.  Near  Banbury  Clarence  deserted  to 
the  king  with  his  men,  and  sent  offering  terms  to  the 
earl.  Warwick  drove  the  messenge(rs  away,  and 
''thanked  God  he  was  himself  and  not  that  traitor 
duke."  But  his  army  thus  lessened,  he  was  not  strong 
enough  to  engage  the  man  whom  he  had  schooled,  and 
whom  Hastings  guided,  and  it  was  necessary  to  wait  for 
reenforcements.  Edward  meanwhile  occupied  London, 
whence  with  added  numbers  he  advanced,  and  at  Barnet 
the  armies  met.  Every  accident  favored  the  king,  the 
saddest  being  that  Oxford 's  forces  were  mistaken  in  the 
fog  and  fired  upon,  causing  the  cry  of  treason,  and  the 
flight  of  his  troops.  In  the  end  Edward  triumphed, 
Warwick  and  his  brother  Montagu  perishing  on  the 
field. 


LUCRETIA 

THE  records  of  two  criminal  careers  of  unusual 
character  (for  the  guilty  persons  were  of  more 
than  ordinary  cultivation  and  attainments,  and 
their  acts  atrocious  in  the  extreme,  and  long  continued) 
came  into  Bulwer's  hands,  and  proved  so  absorbingly 
interesting  that  they  caused  him  to  forego  his  intention 
of  writing  a  play  which  he  had  long  meditated,  and  to 
compose  this  work  instead. 

The  phenomena  of  criminality  have  attracted  atten- 
tion in  all  ages.  From  the  remotest  past  habitual  wrong- 
doers have  been  recognized  as  a  class,  possessing  definite 
characteristics.  When  Homer  describes  Thersites  as  de- 
formed, with  scant  hair  and  a  pointed  head,  he  shows 
that  a  type  of  being  from  whom  anti-social  acts  were  to 
be  expected  was  distinguished  at  the  time  when  Hellenic 
civilization  was  in  the  making.  Vidocq  asserted  that  he 
could  always  tell  a  criminal  by  his  eye.  Lombroso  ex- 
hibited to  thirty-two  children  twenty  pictures  of  thieves 
and  twenty  of  eminent  men  of  character,  and  found  that 
eighty  per  cent  of  the  children  were  able  to  discriminate 
between  the  bad  and  the  good.  Through  all  time  the 
likelihood  of  evil  deeds  has  been  indicated  by  evil  looks, 
and  a  type  of  beings  with  something  forbidding  in  ap- 
pearance which  causes  mankind  to  beware,  has  always 
formed  a  class  in  the  community. 


182  PROSE   EOMANCES  OF  BULWER 

But  all  criminals  do  not  conform  to  this  type.  Ever 
and  again  we  find  in  a  person  convicted  of  crime,  one  pos- 
sessed of  acquirements  which  rightly  exercised  would 
have  won  him  honor  and  respect.  The  persons  whose 
histories  so  engrossed  Bulwer  combined  intellectual  cul- 
tivation and  prepossessing  appearance  with  viciousness 
of  conduct.  They  had  but  to  be  honest  to  succeed,  and 
perseverance  would  have  made  them  blessings  to  their 
race,  but  they  preferred  to  traverse  crooked  ways,  and 
to  regard  society  as  their  prey.  In  his  search  for  the 
cause  of  such  grievous  perversion  of  talents  and  advan- 
tages, he  became  convinced  that  the  starting  point  of 
careers  of  guilt  could  be  found  in  the  nonrecognition  of 
some  important  truths  which  he  thus  enumerated : 

' '  I  hold  that  the  greatest  friend  of  man  is  labour,  that 
knowledge  without  toil,  if  possible,  were  worthless ;  that 
toil  in  pursuit  of  knowledge  is  the  best  knowledge  we 
can  attain ;  that  the  continuous  effort  for  fame  is  nobler 
than  f amie  itself ;  that  it  is  not  wealth  suddenly  acquired 
which  is  deserving  of  homage,  but  the  virtues  which  a 
man  exercises  in  the  slow  pursuit  of  wealth,  the  abilities 
so  called  forth,  the  self-denials  so  imposed;  in  a  word, 
that  Labour  and  Patience  are  the  true  schoolmasters  on 
earth.'' 

Lucretia  is  based  on  the  materials  furnished  by  the 
histories  of  these  children  of  night,  and  embodies  the  re- 
sult of  its  author's  study  of  their  lives,  their  motives, 
their  characteristics,  and  their  fates.  In  the  course  of 
his  exposition  he  shows  the  evil  wrought  by  neglectful 
or  mischievous  early  training,  the  demoralizing  results 


LUCRETIA  183 

of  the  "vice  of  impatience,"  and  the  corruption  caused 
by  the  desire  for  and  pursuit  of  rapid  wealth.  But 
these  lessons  are  slight  and  incidental  in  comparison  to 
the  truths  most  terribly  enforced  —  that  intellect  and 
criminality  are  eternally  antagonistic,  and  that  igno- 
minious ruin  inevitably  engulfs  those  who  debase  in- 
telligence to  guilt. 

The  story  is  in  two  parts,  each  having  a  prologue  and 
epilogue,  with  an  interval  of  twenty-seven  years  between 
the  parts.  After  the  first  prologue,  which  displays  Dali- 
bard's  heartless  malignity  and  the  early  mistraining  of 
Varney,  the  old  English  home  of  Laughton  Hall  with 
its  master  and  his  friends  is  described  —  Sir  Miles,  an 
accomplished  survival  of  Chesterfieldian  days;  Charles 
Vernon,  a  predecessor  of  the  later  dandy;  Dalibard, 
who  has  become  librarian  and  tutor  at  Laughton ;  Var- 
ney; and  Lucretia  Clavering,  the  niece  and  destined 
heiress  of  Sir  Miles  St.  John. 

Dalibard,  Varney,  and  Lucretia  are  the  formidable 
three,  whose  schemes,  intrigues,  and  the  resulting  conse- 
quences supply  the  incidents  of  the  narrative,  and  whose 
characters  are  elaborated,  analyzed,  and  (especially  in 
the  instance  of  Lucretia)  exposed  with  careful  particu- 
larization.  They  are  incarnations  of  egotism  pushed  to 
the  extreme.  Each  perverts  intellect  to  base  purposes, 
each  fails  when  success  seems  assured,  each  is  punished 
in  the  sin  most  favored;  and  throughout  the  recital  of 
their  deeds,  with  stem  purpose  the  author  refrains  from 
ever  invoking  pity  on  their  behalf.  Awe  rising  to  terror 
is  inspired  by  their  devious  actions,  and  attention  is  en- 


184  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

grossed  to  the  end ;  but  nothing  ever  minimizes  the  enor- 
mity of  their  guilt,  or  gives  occasion  for  commiseration 
of  their  fate. 

Lucretia  is  the  darling  of  a  fond  and  affectionate 
uncle,  who  dotes  on  her  the  more  because  her  imperious- 
ness  and  vehement  temper  render  her  unmanageable  by 
anyone  but  himself.  She  has  habitually  mixed  with  the 
baronet's  friends,  all  older  than  herself;  and,  her  educa- 
tion has  been  guided  by  Dalibard,  who  has  taught  her  to 
suppress  the  manifestation  of  temper,  to  seem  rather 
than  to  be,  and  to  value  and  cultivate  intellect  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  all  amiable  qualities. 

When  Goethe  describes  the  steps  in  the  ruin  of  Mar- 
garet, that  wise  observer  shows  that  trustful  affection 
for  her  mother,  reverence  for  the  church,  and  fear  of 
God,  three  sentiments  which  have  grown  with  her 
growth,  must  be  weakened  and  confused  before  the  girl 
becomes  responsive  to  Faust's  advances.  Lucretia  was 
motherless,  and  Dalibard 's  teachings  were  subversive  of 
religion  and  ignored  the  Deity.  That  she  had  none  of 
the  anchors  which  attach  the  ordinary  young  girl  to 
righteousness  was  due  to  her  unwise  training:  and  in 
her  pride  of  intellect,  which  impelled  to  scheme  and  in- 
trigue, there  lurked  a  more  subtle  incentive  to  evil  than 
even  Faust's  familiar.  She  repays  her  uncle's  care  and 
tenderness  by  grudging  his  few  remaining  days  and 
watching  for  his  death,  for  she  has  planned  to  wed  one 
whom  Sir  Miles  never  would  consent  to  receive  into  his 
family.  Until  her  inheritance  is  secure,  she  seeks  to 
delude  and  deceive  him. 

Sir  Miles  has  been  kind  rather  than  watchful ;  an  in- 


LUCRETIA  185 

dulgent  guardian,  not  a  wise  one.  Hence  the  latent 
justice  which  allows  grief  and  disappointment  to  em- 
bitter his  last  days  and  hasten  his  death ;  for  the  old  man, 
who  has  gloried  in  the  queenliness  of  his  niece,  learns 
that  she  had  abused  his  faith,  and  in  calculating  consid- 
eration of  his  life  as  something  in  her  way,  had  counted 
the  sands  in  his  hourglass,  and  met  his  frank  purposes 
with  secret  schemes  and  treachery.  After  that  there  is 
nothing  left  for  him  but  to  alter  his  will,  and  hasten  out 
of  life. 

The  marriage  for  which  Lucretia  had  practiced  house- 
hold treason  with  such  heavy  loss,  is  frustrated  through 
the  machinations  of  Dalibard,  who  so  arranges  matters 
that  the  person  for  whom  she  had  sacrificed  so  much  is 
displayed  and  exposed  as  the  lover  of  her  sister,  a  false, 
weak,  and  forsworn  man,  whom  she  humiliates,  releases 
from  his  engagement,  and  leaves  in  scorn. 

Friendless,  lone,  and  undone,  she  has  no  refuge  now 
save  Dalibard,  whom  brightening  prospects  attract  to 
his  native  land.  Lucretia  becomes  his  bride  and  accom- 
panies him  to  France.  Scheming  ever,  Dalibard  ad- 
vances in  position  and  toward  power  until  his  wife  is  in 
his  way,  and  then  he  plots  to  remove  her.  Lucretia  be- 
comes aware  that  her  fearful  husband  is  bent  on  her 
destruction,  and  that  another  is  to  have  her  place. 
Roused  to  energy  by  danger,  her  counterplot  brings 
about  Dalibard 's  assassination.  The  desecrator  of 
hearths  and  betrayer  of  trusts  is  butchered  in  his  own 
home  by  the  dupe  he  had  despised. 

Lucretia  returns  to  England  and  visits  her  sister, 
now  married  to  Mainwaring.     They  regard  her  visit  as 


186  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

evidence  of  her  forgiveness.  She  finds  them  happy, 
honored,  prosperous ;  but  her  errand  is  one  of  vengeance, 
and  when  she  leaves  them  their  reputation,  prospects, 
and  home  have  all  been  wrecked. 

The  punishment  of  her  recreant  lover  accomplished, 
Lucretia  is  without  further  object  in  life,  and  in  the 
calm  which  ensues  conscience  troubles  her,  and  she 
yearns  for  something  she  can  believe,  or  someone  she 
could  trust.  A  religious  sect,  whose  adherents  seemed 
austere  in  their  lives,  confident  in  their  absolution,  and 
certain  of  their  heaven,  attracts  her  and  she  tries  to  be- 
lieve with  a  like  earnestness.  One  of  its  members,  a 
strong,  eloquent  man,  ingratiates  himself,  and  she  mar- 
ries him ;  and  gradually  learns  that  the  pretended  saint 
is  a  hypocrite  and  deceiver.  Recriminations  provoke 
violence;  she  gives  birth  to  a  son;  the  father  thwarts 
her  plans  and  wishes;  and  she  resorts  to  the  means  for- 
merly used  by  Dalibard,  of  which  she  had  possessed  her- 
self —  essences  which  slay  but  leave  no  trace.  The  hus- 
band fears  and  hates  his  wife,  and  realizing  that  his 
days  are  numbered  arranges  to  deprive  her  of  their 
child,  and  disposes  of  it  so  effectually  that  all  Lucretia 's 
efforts  and  wanderings  and  enquiries  are  futile.  Im- 
poverished and  hopeless,  she  is  compelled  to  give  up  her 
search  in  reluctant  despair.  Her  unstable  visions  of  re- 
form thus  shattered,  she  no  longer  believes  in  good,  but 
becomes  merciless  and  ruthless.  Joining  with  Varney, 
she  plans  and  aids  in  the  execution  of  a  succession  of 
frauds  which  defy  detection  and  evade  all  punishment, 
and  which  lead  them  to  and  fro  over  Europe  like  wan- 
dering  devastations*.       Suddenly  Varney   learns   that 


LUCRETIA  187 

there  are  but  two  lives  between  Lucretia's  son  and  the 
Laughton  estates,  and  they  return  to  England  resolved 
to  remove  the  obstacles  and  secure  the  inheritance. 

Feigning  an  infirmity  that  would  mock  all  suspicion, 
Lucretia  establishes  herself  in  a  dull  house,  and  claims 
the  guardianship  of  her  niece,  Helen,  who  thereupon 
comes  to  live  with  her.  An  attorney  is  employed  in  a 
renewed  search  for  her  missing  son.  Yarney  meanwhile 
makes  the  acquaintance  of  Percival;  and  thus  the  two 
obnoxious  lives  are  at  their  mercy,  and  their  plans  only 
halt  until  Lucretia  recovers  her  son.  Matters  are  facil- 
itated by  an  attachment  which  develops  between  Per- 
cival and  Helen,  which  leads  the  young  heir  to  invite 
the  aunt  of  his  betrothed  to  accompany  her  ward,  and 
revisit  Laughton. 

Again  in  the  old  hall,  from  whence  her  duplicity  had 
caused  her  banishment,  Lucretia  proceeds  to  complete 
her  design.  From  her  couch  at  night  the  pretended 
paralytic  rises,  selects  from  the  products  of  Dalibard's 
chemistry  the  agent  most  fitting  for  her  purpose,  and 
steals  to  Helen's  room.  A  new  groom,  unseen  himself, 
sees  the  flitting  form,  quickly  becomes  suspicious,  and 
resolves  to  play  the  spy.  Next  morning  news  arrives 
that  Lucretia's  son  is  found  and  will  be  at  Laughton 
the  following  day;  and  that  Percival's  guardian  is  al- 
ready on  his  way  thither.  Haste  becomes  imperative 
now.  Lucretia  and  Vamey  arrange  the  last  details  and 
destroy  everything  that  might  incriminate,  save  a  large 
ring,  the  masterpiece  of  Dalibard's  art,  which  conceals 
a  poison  having  no  antidote,  and  which  Lucretia  retains. 
The  spying  groom  has  heard  all  their  conversation  and 


188  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

knows  their  guilt,  but  in  stealing  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain where  he  had  hidden,  he  is  seen  by  Lucretia,  who 
rises  and  seizes  him.  He  strives  to  effect  his  release, 
and  she  touches  him  with  the  fatal  ring,  and  too  weak 
to  resist  further,  allows  him  to  go,  then  warns  Varney 
to  hasten  after  and  secure  him  till  the  poison  does  its 
work.  Varney  never  overtakes  the  groom,  but  he  has 
the  mortification  to  see  him  stagger  into  the  carriage 
which  is  bearing  Percival's  guardian  to  Laughton. 

Lucretia  meanwhile  awaits  her  son.  Prom  the  un- 
dutiful  thought,  through  acts  of  duplicity,  schemes  of 
spoliation,  and  plans  for  aggraadizement  that  regarded 
not  human  life,  to  the  very  verge  of  success  in  the  dar- 
ing project  which  promised  the  restoration  of  the  Laugh- 
ton  estates,  her  course  has  been  traced ;  all  former  perils 
have  been  evaded,  every  law  baffled.  Danger  is  present 
now,  but  it  daunts  her  not.  A  groom  denounces  her  as 
a  murderess,  but  the  charge  appals  her  not.  Her  son  is 
found,  for  him  she  asks,  A  few  words  of  explanation ; 
and  then  death  would  be  a  merciful  boon,  for  she  dis- 
covers that  the  accusing  menial  is  that  son,  and  knows 
herself  his  murderess;  and  with  the  laugh  that  rose  as 
Beck  died,  fled  forever  the  reason  of  Lucretia.  Hence- 
forth she  who  had  prided  herself  on  her  intellect,  her 
station,  and  her  freedom  is  nameless  and  unknown,  the 
forgotten  and  neglected  inmate  of  a  madhouse. 

Lucretia  is  a  masterpiece  in  construction.  The  period 
of  time  embraces  two  generations,  and  carries  some  of 
the  characters  from  youth  to  maturity.  The  changes 
made  by  the  years  are  shown  in  every  case.     Incident 


LUCRETIA  189 

follows  incident  with  ever-accelerated  speed,  until  the 
weaving  of  the  plot  to  recover  Laughton.  Then  in 
a  retrospect,  the  happenings  of  the  twenty-seven  years  ^ 
interval  are  communicated;  after  which  the  clews  to 
Vincent's  whereabouts  become  more  certain,  the  rising 
of  the  pretended  cripple  indicates  some  more  unusual 
deed,  and  suspense  is  intensified;  while  the  search  for 
Lucretia's  son  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  interference  of 
a  foe  on  the  other,  are  completed  in  the  discovery  that 
son  and  foe  are  one.  An  epilogue  relates  the  after  fate 
of  the  various  personages. 

There  are  passages  in  the  work  which  are  eloquent, 
others  that  are  tender,  but  there  is  not  a  trace  of  levity ; 
a  fervid  earnestness  pervades  the  whole. 

Lucretia's  search  for  her  son  furnishes  an  example  of 
that  irony  of  situation  which  gives  such  poignant  inter- 
est to  the  story  of  Oedypus  as  treated  by  Aeschylus  and 
Sophocles,  and  in  the  mother's  fluctuating  emotion  as  the 
unravelment  of  the  tangled  clues  progresses  —  eager  an- 
ticipation, fierce  joy,  chilling  disappointment,  complet- 
ed in  the  tremendous  horror  of  the  identification,  the 
modern  poet  has  equalled  the  giant  ancients. 

Two  of  the  scenes  are  of  tremendous  intensity  — 
where  Lucretia  discovers  the  falseness  of  her  betrothed, 
and  where  she  recovers  her  son.  Other  parts,  such  as 
the  description  of  the  progress  of  starbeam  and  moon- 
beam through  the  windows  and  rooms  of  the  old  hall, 
are  as  Ijrric-like  as  the  choruses  of  an  Athenian  drama. 
'And  though  every  detail  concerning  the  three  is  som- 
bre,  there  are  several   admirable   characters,   and   the 


190  PROSE   ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

chapters  in  which  these  appear  are  bright  and  stimu- 
lating and  arouse  different  feelings  from  those  called 
forth  by  the  deeds  of  Lucretia  and  her  fell  allies. 

The  physiognomical  descriptions  are  sufficiently  mi- 
tiute  to  enable  us  to  comprehend  the  general  principles 
which  guided  Bulwer's  determinations.  Intellect  he 
assigns  to  the  forehead  and  eyebrows,  breadth  indicating 
the  capacity  to  understand,  height  the  ability  to  put 
knowledge  to  use.  To  the  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  char- 
acter is  allotted,  while  will  pertains  to  the  chin  and  jaw. 
Dalibard's  skull,  compared  with  his  visage,  is  dispro- 
portionately large.  Lucretia  looks  aslant,  has  a  Gre- 
cian profile,  the  thin  lips  of  the  spiteful,  the  firm  mouth 
of  the  determined.  Mouth  and  chin  hidden,  her  ex- 
pression is  changed,  for  will  is  strong,  but  character  un- 
determined. 

The  distrust  which  accompanied  the  first  impression 
formed  of  Lucretia,  which  disappeared  on  further  ac- 
quaintance, arose  from  our  instinctively  building  up  a 
series  of  judgments  of  individuals,  beginning  with  child- 
hood familiars  and  continuing  through  life,  and  me- 
chanically comparing  every  new  face  with  these  remem- 
brances, and  placing  each  in  its  class.  But  mature  peo- 
ple hide  their  real  character  with  more  or  less  success; 
and  often,  with  repeated  intercourse,  the  assumed  agree- 
ableness  dispels  the  instinctive  aversion. 

In  Zanoni  Bulwer  made  plain  his  right  to  a  position 
on  one  of  the  twin  heights  of  the  Forked  Parnassus,  and 
in  Lucretia  he  established  his  place  on  the  other.  The 
one  is  a  surpassing  revelation  of  the  Heroic,  the  other 
his  supreme  achievement  in  the  Tragic.     Apart  from 


\  LUCRETIA  191 

form.  Lucretia  is  a  tragedy,  and  form  is  largely  dictated 
by  the  fashion  of  the  period.  He  who  in  Elizabeth's 
reign  produced  plays,  would  in  the  days  of  Victoria 
write  romances,  for  the  popular  demand  to  which  the 
artist  necessarily  ministers  called  for  plays  in  the  one 
age,  and  for  romances  in  the  other.  The  dominant  char- 
acteristic of  tragedy  is  warning;  and  Lucretia  is  a  sus- 
tained warning  against  impatience,  coveteousness,  and 
selfseeking.  Nor  is  there  any  drama  in  which  greater 
consistency  is  maintained  in  the  characters,  or  more  or- 
iginality and  power  displayed  in  the  incidents  and  situ- 
ations; while  in  avoiding  all  superhuman  agencies  as 
influences  on  conduct,  and  in  refraining  from  invoking 
pity  for  the  offenders,  Litcretia  stands  alone. 

The  work  appeared  in  1846.  Its  publication  aroused 
a  storm  of  virulent  abuse  in  the  newspapers  and  reviews. 
This  arose  from  the  original  of  Varney  having  been  a 
contributor  to  the  periodical  press  widely  known  among 
his  class,  who  resented  the  depiction  of  their  fellow  and 
Vere  indignant  at  the  exposition  because  startled,  and 
wincing  at  the  lessons  of  the  guilt. 

Bulwer  had  come  to  regard  contemporary  English 
criticism  with  unalloyed  contempt.  The  fulminations 
against  Lucretia  he  deemed  undeserving  of  any  notice; 
but  a  general  claim  that  crime  ought  not  to  be  used  as 
material  for  literary  purposes  showed  an  ignorance  so 
gross,  that  in  ' '  A  Word  to  the  Public ' '  he  issued  a  pam- 
phlet which  is  the  most  elaborate  exposition  on  the  ma- 
terials of  tragedy  ever  produced. 


HAROLD 

THE  battle  of  Hastings,  which  changed  the  dynasty 
and  the  destiny  of  England,  is  the  catastrophe  of 
this  work.  The  happenings  of  the  fourteen  years 
which  preceded  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  Norman 
conquest  are  here  comprehensively  and  concisely  related, 
history  being  elucidated  by  romance,  not  distorted  to  its 
service.  A  gallery  of  portraits  of  the  great  figures  of  the 
period  is  presented ;  the  condition  of  the  several  peoples 
shown;  their  varying  wellbeing,  superstitions,  culture, 
and  customs  noted;  and  the  actual  events  described  in 
their  proper  order  and  sequence.  From  the  contradictory 
and  confused  chronicles  of  the  time  a  consistent  narra- 
tive is  evolved,  a  realization  of  the  personages  developed, 
and  an  understanding  of  their  motives  in  the  several 
circumstances  wherein  they  appeared  sought  for.  Hence 
the  characters  conform  to  history,  and  also  to  human 
nature. 

The  Norman  conquest  began  with  the  reign  of  Ed- 
ward the  Confessor,  whose  leanings  Normanward  led 
him  to  surround  his  court  with,  and  make  frequent 
grants  of  lands  and  privileges  to,  outland  favorites, 
some  of  whom  became  so  arbitrary  in  their  conduct  as 
to  enrage  the  Saxons,  and  cause  the  expulsion  of  the 
Normans  from  the  court. 

Godwin,  the  sagacious,  practical  minister  of  a  dream- 


HAROLD  193 

ing  king,  more  patriotic  than  his  master,  endeavored  to 
check  the  infatuate  tendencies  of  the  monarch,  and  this 
led  to  his  outlawry,  and  a  temporary  triumph  of  his 
foes.  But  Godwin  had  the  sympathy  of  nearly  all  Eng- 
land. "With  his  six  sons  he  returned  in  arms,  demanded 
and  obtained  a  trial,  was  acquitted,  inlawed,  and  re- 
stored to  his  former  power.  Shortly  thereafter  he  died, 
and  Harold  succeeded  to  his  father's  earldom  and  influ- 
ence, becoming  practically  the  deputy  of  the  king,  man- 
aging affairs,  leading  in  war,  and  guiding  the  realm. 
By-and-by,  seeing  the  increasing  infirmities  of  the  Con- 
fessor, the  earl  became  aware  that  the  throne  was  within 
his  reach. 

In  the  hope  of  securing  the  support  of  William,  Har- 
old visited  the  Norman  court ;  but  he  was  deceived  and 
tricked  by  that  unscrupulous  schemer,  who,  claiming 
that  Edward  had  offered  him  the  succession,  extorted 
from  his  guest  a  promise  under  oath  to  help  the  Norman 
to  the  English  throne.  The  mission,  from  which  favor- 
able results  had  been  anticipated,  produced  humiliation, 
entanglement,  and  ultimately  disaster. 

There  were  other  untoward  circumstances.  In  the 
pacification  of  Northumbria,  the  turbulent  Tostig  was 
deprived  of  that  earldom,  and  thereby  made  his  brother's 
enemy.  And  in  the  campaign  against  Griffith,  the  dras- 
tic measures  of  Harold  drove  multitudes  of  the  Welsh 
to  Brittany,  whence,  as  part  of  William's  invading  army, 
they  afterwards  returned. 

When  Edward  died,  there  was  no  other  Saxon  of  suf- 
ficiently commanding  ability  or  popularity  to  compete 
with  Harold,  and  he  was  crowned  king,  January  6,  1066. 


194  PROSE  EOMANCES  OF  BULWER 

He  at  once  busied  himself  with  measures  to  lessen  taxa- 
tion, to  conciliate  the  church,  to  strengthen  the  army, 
protect  the  coasts,  and  guard  against  the  threatened  in- 
vasion of  the  Normans.  In  September,  Harold  Hard- 
rada.,  stirred  to  the  enterprise  by  Tostig,  landed  in 
Northumbria  with  a  formidable  army,  intent  upon  con- 
quering England,  and  Harold  had  to  abandon  his  pre- 
ventive preparations  and  march  to  York,  raising  levies 
on  the  way.  At  Stamford  Bridge  he  defeated  the  Nor- 
wegians. It  was  a  glorious  victory.  They  came  in  a 
thousand  ships,  they  went  back  with  twenty-four.  But 
ere  the  slain  were  buried  the  Normans  landed  at  Peven- 
sey,  and  Harold  and  his  army  were  called  to  the  south 
to  meet  another  invader. 

On  October  14,  1066,  the  Saxons  and  Normans  met. 
Harold  had  no  time  for  construction  work,  but  he  chose 
his  ground  well,  and  a  concealed  ditch  was  made.  His 
army  formed  the  shield- wall,  shaped  like  a  wedge  —  the 
heavily-armed,  shield  to  shield  and  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
in  the  front.  All  the  forces  of  the  Normans  availed 
nothing  while  this  formation  was  maintained.  Charges 
by  horsemen  and  attacks  by  archers  made  with  the  inten- 
tion of  galling  the  Saxons  into  breaking  their  wall,  were 
ineffectual  until  William's  oft-rehearsed  feint  of  a  gen- 
eral and  confused  retreat  was  resorted  to,  and  the  Sax- 
ons were  seduced  into  pursuit.  But  a  part  of  the  ruse 
was  a  concealed  body  of  horsemen,  who  now  becoming 
active,  rode  among  the  Saxons  and  prevented  their  re- 
forming, while  the  rest  of  the  Normans,  abandoning 
their  pretended  retreat,  and  no  longer  balked  by  the 
shield  wall,  defeated  and  destroyed  the  trapped  Saxons. 


HAROLD  195 

In  Harold  Saxon  England  of  the  eleventh  century  is 
presented  to  ns,  not  an  organic  whole,  with  an  homo- 
geneous people,  but  a  congeries  of  earldoms  inhabited 
by  Kymrians,  Norsemen,  Saxons,  and  their  derivatives, 
loosely  connected,  and  only  held  together  by  command- 
ing ability.  Each  was  animated  by  intense  local  pa- 
triotism, but  comparatively  indifferent  to  the  misfor- 
tunes of  its  neighbors,  and  all  had  racial  prejudices, 
which  interfered  with  or  prevented  united  action  in  a 
common  cause.  Men  rose  rapidly  to  high  station  from 
lowly  beginnings,  for  the  qualification  necessary  for  ad- 
vancement was  not  name,  lineage,  or  beneficence,  but 
the  possession  of  wealth.  The  general  well-being  was 
high,  and  the  constitutional  liberty  large.  The  people 
were  brave,  reverent  of  law,  and  intolerant  of  oppres- 
sion, but  they  were  also  impatient  of  control,  incapable 
of  continued  vigilance  in  guarding  the  kingdom,  averse 
to  additions  to  its  natural  defenses,  and  unwilling  to  pro- 
vide for  emergencies  regarded  as  too  remote  to  deserve 
attention.  A  monkish  king  and  a  selfish  priesthood  had 
combined  to  produce  and  spread  lethargy  and  careless- 
ness. Education  was  neglected,  the  church  owned  one- 
third  of  the  land,  and  everything  indicated  the  need  of 
strong  rule,  and  renovation. 

Harold  is  depicted  as  patient,  steadfast,  dauntless; 
powerful  in  the  field,  just  and  wise  in  council ;  the  most 
conspicuous  and  admirable  figure  of  his  time,  winning 
renown  and  affection  by  his  successes  in  the  various 
tasks  which  crowded  his  busy  life,  one  whom  a  strong 
sense  of  duty  guided  in  conduct  and  intention,  until 
nearness  to  the  throne  beguiled  him  into  ambition,  when 


196  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

calculation  and  conciliation  were  practiced,  and  policy 
took  the  place  of  duty. 

Grouped  around  the  commanding  form  of  Harold  are 
the  members  of  his  own  family  —  the  successful  God- 
win, the  loyal  Gurth,  the  passion-riven  Sweyn,  the  fierce 
Tostig,  the  gay  Leofwine,  the  foredoomed  Haco,  and  a 
varied  throng  of  characters  whose  originals  figure  in  the 
history  of  which  they  were  part.  And  as  grand  and 
impressive  as  any,  but  having  no  mention  in  other  chron- 
icle than  this,  the  haughty  and  lone  Hilda,  the  desolate 
descendant  of  kings,  clinging  to  old-time  customs,  wor- 
shiper of  pagan  gods,  whose  galdra  influenced  those  in 
whom  desire  was  strong.  For  rarely  is  ambition  wary, 
and  easily  is  it  stimulated  by  prediction  or  omen,  and 
more  than  other  passions  is  it  prone  to  avail  itself  of 
questionable  aids. 

Hilda  represents  that  pagan  belief  which  had  numer- 
ous adherents  in  every  part  of  England,  notwithstand- 
ing the  professed  conversion  to  Christianity  of  over- 
lords and  earls.  Heathenesse  was  not  confined  to  the 
lower  classes;  few  of  its  votaries  were  as  debased  and 
selfish  as  the  majority  of  Christian  priests.  But  in  cre- 
ating Hilda,  Bulwer  had  the  further  purpose  of  warn- 
ing against  credulous  acceptance  of  the  apparently  su- 
pernatural. Every  use  of  this  agency  by  him  carries 
this  lesson :  always  the  oracular  utterances  have  an  un- 
happy fulfillment,  contrary  to  the  expectation  founded 
upon  them.  He  had  studied  the  subject  in  its  modern 
as  well  as  its  ancient  forms,  and  his  reiterated  warnings 
convey  not  only  his  opinion,  but  the  result  of  experience. 

Dissimulating,  wary  and  cruel,  save  to  his  children, 


HAROLD  197 

whom  he  indulged  and  spoilt,  lacking  the  finer  qualities 
of  the  Norman  knighthood,  but  seeing  far,  and  working 
steadily  in  the  direction  of  a  long  meditated  purpose, 
the  Count  of  the  Normans  is  shown  in  every  phase  of 
his  character  —  adroit  in  dealing  with  his  nobles,  crafty 
in  his  behavior  to  Harold,  prescient  in  his  discern- 
ment of  the  weakness  of  England,  masterful  in  sup- 
pressing revolt,  energetic  in  ruling  his  duchy,  and  politic 
in  fostering  the  church  and  encouraging  education. 
Systematizing  everything,  and  reducing  all  to  order,  he 
produced  a  chivalrous  nobility  and  an  eager  priesthood 
at  the  expense  of  the  tillers  of  the  soil.  The  soldiers  ac- 
quired polish  and  refinement,  the  serfs  were  degraded 
and  embruited.  And  when  the  time  was  come,  with  the 
chivalry  and  the  church  as  his  supports,  he  gathered  ad- 
herents, launched  his  ships,  descended  on  England,  and 
won  a  kingdom.  At  Hastings  Democracy  went  down 
before  Aristocracy.  Rigorous  organization,  which  dis- 
dained the  multitude  and  entrusted  power  only  to  the 
nobles,  obtained  the  victory  over  a  people  who,  placing 
a  greater  value  upon  liberty  than  on  duty,  failed  to 
muster  to  the  assistance  of  Harold,  and  deserved  the  . 
punishment  which  followed. 

Harold  is  compacted  of  stirring  incidents.  The  tragic 
failure  at  Hastings  was  preceded  by  successes  against 
widely  different  antagonists.  At  Stamford  Bridge, 
Hardrada,  the  hero  of  wondrous  adventures,  the  Poet- 
Titan,  with  the  scalds'  love  of  song  and  Vikings'  lust 
for  war,  was  defeated  and  slain;  and  in  the  campaign 
in  Wales  —  a  minor  epic  within  a  larger  one  —  the  son 
of  Pendragon  was  driven,  inch  by  inch,  to  his  fatal  ey- 


198  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

rie.  These  actions  with  their  attendant  circumstances 
give  occasion  for  rapid  descriptions  and  varied  charac- 
terizations. Apart  from  the  battles,  there  are  many- 
fine  achievements  in  the  book,  notably  the  reproduction 
of  the  scene  in  the  Witan,  where  Godwin  secured  the 
reversal  of  his  outlawry.  The  work  is  accurate  in  detail 
and  gives  an  insight  into  conditions,  an  intelligible  ex- 
planation of  motives,  and  a  discerning  survey  of  the 
various  causes  contributing  to  the  catastrophe.  While 
portraying  a  grand  hero  in  a  noble  manner,  it  also  il- 
luminates a  period. 

That  progressive  national  deterioration  which  is  called 
the  growth  of  democracy  had  assumed  portentous  pro- 
portions in  England  in  1848.  The  one  extreme  of  en- 
trusting governmental  power  to  the  untrained  and  im- 
perfectly educated  masses  is  more  undesirable  than  the 
other  extreme  of  autocratic  rule,  for  the  latter  is  usually 
accompanied  by  intellect  and  has  often  succeeded  in  ad- 
vancing a  people  in  civilization,  culture,  and  conduct, 
but  democratic  rule,  because  of  the  preponderating  num- 
bers of  its  least  intelligent  constituents,  has  never 
achieved  anything  higher  than  equivocal  material  wel- 
fare —  equivocal  because  secured  through  agencies  which 
in  their  organization  repudiate  democracy,  and  because 
the  gains  are  concentrated  in  the  commercial  class  and 
its  allies  instead  of  being  generally  diffused,  and  the 
nation  that  can  only  boast  of  its  commercial  success  has 
no  stronger  claim  to  general  respect  than  has  the  indi- 
vidual who  is  rich  but  vulgar. 

Democratic  rule  is  potent  to  destroy,  but  it  has  not 
demonstrated  its  ability  to  construct.     It  obtains  favor- 


HAROLD         .  199 

able  regard  and  encouragement  because  of  the  general 
belief  in  the  fallacious  proposition  that  all  are  interested 
in  good  government.  As  a  matter  of  fact  some  are  in- 
terested in  bad  government  and  these  by  combining  their 
activities  usually  secure  power,  dictate  policy,  and  con- 
trol administration. 

The  best  governed  nation  is  that  which  avails  itself 
of  the  services  of  its  best  men,  but  Gresham's  law  ap- 
plies to  parliamentarians  as  well  as  to  money,  and  when 
lawyers,  half-breeds,  and  squaw-men  are  irrupted  into 
the  councils  of  a  nation,  gentlemen  abandon  statesman- 
ship, and  representatives  presently  degenerate  into  del- 
egates. 

Bulwer's  recognition  of  the  imminence  of  govern- 
mental domination  by  the  masses,  impelled  him  to  set 
before  his  countrymen  the  picture  of  a  calamitous  con- 
flict between  democracy  and  aristocracy  once  waged  in 
their  native  land  and  to  display  by  example  the  inad- 
equacy of  democratic  rule  to  cope  with  invasion  or  to  ac- 
complish any  real  constructive  improvements  in  the 
realm,  its  institutions,  or  its  people.  These  lessons  are 
quite  subsidiary  to  the  general  purpose  of  Harold  but 
the  need  of  them  suggested  the  romance. 

One  lesson,  merely  glanced  at  in  Harold,  calls  for  fur- 
ther comment. 

The  importance  of  race,  though  now  generally  disre- 
garded, has  been  acknowledged  in  all  ages,  and  the 
people,  by  whom  sentiments,  institutions,  and  proverbial 
knowledge  are  cherished  and  retained  long  after  the 
higher  social  ranks  have  abandoned  or  forgotten  them, 
still  regard  mixture  of  race  with   disdain.     In   stock- 


200  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

raising  great  care  is  exercised  in  this  regard,  and  it  is 
recognized  that  the  mixture  of  two  breeds  does  not  give 
the  equivalent  of  either,  but  is  a  new  start  toward  an- 
other variety,  and  from  a  lower  level  —  that  at  least 
five  generations  are  necessary  to  establish  a  breed;  and 
that  where  crossment  is  resorted  to  the  undesirable  qual- 
ities of  the  parents  are  emphasized  in  the  progeny,  di- 
minishing in  degree  with  each  generation,  until  in  the 
fifth  the  benefit  of  the  blend  becomes  apparent. 

Man  differs  not  in  this  regard  from  the  domesticated 
animals.  The  mixing  of  the  Caucasian  and  the  Negro 
produces  a  creature  which  both  races  distrust  and  avoid. 
The  red  Indian  blended  with  the  Frenchman  results  in 
a  devil.  The  Eurasian  is  the  despair  of  all  who  come 
in  contact  with  him.  And  in  races  more  nearly  allied 
the  first  effect  of  crossment  is  mischievous.  The  com- 
plete amalgamation  may  be  an  improvement,  but  not 
until  after  five  generations  is  any  good  result  assured, 
and  the  intervening  period  is  one  of  peril. 

The  history  of  every  country  shows  this  evil,  and 
England  supplies  repeated  evidence  of  its  certainty. 
The  Kymrian  natives,  weakened  by  the  Roman  invasion 
and  the  wars  with  the  Picts,  fell  a  prey  to  the  Saxons, 
who  killed  off  the  fighting  men,  reduced  the  submissive 
to  serfdom,  and  married  the  women.  This  so  effemin- 
ized  the  next  generation  that  its  resistance  to  the  Scan- 
dinavians was  ineffectual,  and  these  intruders  similarly 
destroyed  the  fighters  and  appropriated  the  women,  pro- 
ducing a  further  weakened  people  whom  the  Normans 
defeated  and  subdued.  But  under  the  strong  rule  of 
the  conquerors,  hostile  invasions  were  impossible.  France 


HAROLD  201 

became  the  theatre  of  war,  while  in  England,  the  blend- 
ing of  the  bloods  proceeding,  there  emerged  in  Plan- 
tagenet  times  a  splendid  race,  which  became  in  Tudor 
days  a  grand  one. 

With  Elizabeth's  death  and  the  Stuart  accession,  adul- 
terations with  Scottish  blood  began.  The  qualities  at- 
tributable to  the  English  are  mainly  physical,  the  Scot 
has  the  faculty  of  thinking;  therefore  the  blend  is  a 
desirable  one,  but  its  early  products  are  the  most  des- 
picable creatures  in  English  annals.  However,  in  time 
fusion  was  accomplished,  and  a  fine  race  arose,  which 
in  contests  on  many  a  field  gave  a  good  account  of  it- 
self, and  which  added  distinguished  names  to  the  rolls 
of  War,  Philosophy,  Art,  and  Literature.  Later  the  ad- 
mixture with  the  Irish  commenced.  It  is  yet  in  its  early 
stages,  but  deterioration  is  undeniable,  and  a  dominant 
characteristic  of  the  people  now  is  hysteria,  a  quality 
hitherto  foreign  to  the  English  race. 

Rarely  has  a  great  king  of  England  had  a  worthy  son 
as  successor,  for  state  policy  has  necessitated  marriages 
with  foreign  princesses,  with  uniformly  unsatisfactory 
results.  Henry  VIII  was  an  exception  to  the  rule  —  but 
his  mother  was  Elizabeth  of  York.  Three  of  his  chil- 
dren came  to  the  throne.  The  son  died  too  early  for  any 
display  of  capacity,  but  he  was  succeeded  by  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Spanish  princess  whom  we  call  ''Bloody 
Mary,"  and  she  in  turn  by  the  daughter  of  the  English 
gentlewoman  —  Elizabeth. 

Even  in  individuals  who  have  acquired  fame,  the 
harm  of  mixture  of  bloods  is  apparent,  sometimes  in 
physical  deterioration,  always  in  moral  instability.    By- 


202  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ron,  with.  English  father  and  Scottish  mother,  when 
guided  and  advised  by  others  was  a  gentleman.  Left 
to  himself  he  was  alternately  foolish  and  heroic.  Sheri- 
dan, whose  mother  w£is  English  and  his  father  Irish,  was 
as  reprehensible  in  conduct  as  brilliant  in  play  and 
speech.  Gladstone,  of  mixed  English  and  Scotch  blood, 
could  never  form  an  opinion  and  abide  by  it.  On  every 
important  question  he  altered  his  views,  and  the  change 
generally  coincided  with  and  was  in  the  direction  of 
the  trend  of  public  opinion. 

A  pure  race  is  the  first  necessity  in  a  nation.  It  af- 
fords the  only  material  for  continued  and  progressive 
advancement,  and  it  is  difficult  to  subjugate  or  tame. 
''But  where  wealth  is  more  esteemed  than  blood  and 
race,  chiefs  may  be  bribed  and  the  multitude  easily  de- 
luded." Such  a  land  invites  invasion,  is  weak  to  re- 
sist, and  its  conquest,  by  stopping  further  deterioration, 
may  be  beneficial. 

The  subject  of  the  Norman  conquest  had  been  long 
pondered  over  and  the  design  of  Harold  completed  in 
its  author's  mind,  but  the  mechanical  task  of  composi- 
tion was  the  work  of  less  than  three  weeks,  during  which 
it  occupied  almost  all  the  waking  hours.  It  was  written 
at  Bayou  Manor,  the  seat  of  the  Hon.  C.  T.  D  'Eyncourt, 
to  whom  it  was  dedicated,  March  1,  1848.  From  the 
long-past  strife  and  sorrow  in  which  he  had  been  wholly 
absorbed,  Bulwer  was  recalled  to  actual  tragedy  in  his 
own  family.  His  daughter,  returning  from  Germany, 
was  seized  with  fever  in  London.  One  of  Lady  Lyt- 
ton  's  accomplices  in  mischief,  learning  the  address  where 
Emily  lay  ill,  acquainted  the  mother,  and  accompanied 


HAROLD  203 

her  to  the  house,  where  they  insisted  on  remaining  de- 
spite the  medical  attendant's  protest  that  their  presence 
endangered  the  patient's  life.  On  Bulwer's  arrival  the 
intruders  departed,  but  his  daughter  declined  rapidly 
and  died  April  20th. 


PAUSANIAS 

THIS  romance  is  unfinished  but  the  portion  com- 
pleted suffices  to  suggest  how  the  whole  work 
would  have  treated  the  events  and  characters  of 
an  antique  epoch,  and  what  singular  and  varied  interest 
the  author  would  have  imparted  to  a  story  the  scanty 
historical  details  of  which  are  compacted  of  astonish- 
ingly great  incidents. 

The  difficulty  of  enlisting  interest  in  a  romance  must 
ever  increase  in  proportion  to  the  remoteness  of  the 
period  in  which  its  scenes  are  cast.  Whether  Bulwer 
would  have  succeeded  in  making  the  persons,  places,  and 
happenings  of  so  early  a  period  as  familiar  as  those  of 
later  times,  may  admit  of  question;  but  this  fragment 
not  only  shadows  forth  a  powerful  tragedy,  but  in  itself 
is  an  interesting  work,  combining  in  its  narrative  vigor- 
ous scenes,  as  in  the  examination  of  Gongylus,  and  sug- 
gestive charm,  as  in  Alcman^s  exposition  of  the  early 
speculations  into  the  mystery  of  life  after  death;  and 
indicating  characters  and  dramatic  situations  of  great 
originality  and  power. 

The  Regent  of  Sparta,  the  Hero  of  Platea,  became  the 
unintentional  murderer  of  the  maiden  who  confided  in 
him,  and  ever  afterward  believed  himself  to  be  haunted 
by  her.  He  dared  the  spells  of  Heraclea  to  have  speech 
with  and  forgiveness  from  her. 

Discerning   coming  changes  unfavorable   to   Sparta, 


PAUSANIAS  205 

and  anxious  to  secure  the  dominance  of  his  own  state 
over  Greece,  he  plotted  for  a  wider  empire  at  a  time 
when  every  other  Laconian  desired  only  to  preserve  the 
natural  and  restricted  boundaries.  Thwarted  in  his 
plans  but  not  abandoning  them,  he  conspired  with  the 
Persians  and  the  Helots  to  compass  his  cherished  project. 
His  treason  was  discovered  by  a  suspicious  messenger, 
who  read  the  letter  entrusted  to  him,  and  acquainted 
the  Ephori  of  its  purport.  Learning  that  he  had  been 
betrayed  the  Regent  took  refuge  in  a  temple,  which  was 
made  a  living  tomb  by  walling  up  the  entrance,  the  vic- 
tim's mother  indicating  the  method  by  placing  the  first 
stone  in  position.  These  events  are  comprised  in  the 
history  of  Pausanias. 

Our  sources  of  information  concerning  Pausanias  are 
all  unfriendly  to  him.  It  is  probable  that  the  meanest 
assertion  in  the  story  —  the  charge  that  the  betraying 
messenger  was  a  favorite  of  the  Regent,  and  that  the  let- 
ter he  was  entrusted  with  requested  that  the  bearer  be 
slain  as  soon  as  his  errand  was  accomplished,  originated 
with  those  interested  in  maligning  the  Spartan  Chief. 

As  herein  recreated  Pausanias  is  pictured  as  passion- 
ate, self-willed,  daring,  and  ambitious.  His  advantages 
of  height  and  bearing,  his  power  and  influence,  are  de- 
scribed; but  it  is  the  being  over  whom  a  fixed  purpose 
tyrannizes,  as  an  idea  does  over  its  victim,  in  whom  in- 
terest is  centred.  His  Spartan  characteristics,  dignity, 
self-command,  pride,  and  mastery  of  the  countenance 
and  whatever  in  another  might  betray  feeling  or  emo- 
tion, are  displayed  in  the  varying  scenes  in  which  he  ap- 
pears, and  particularly  in  that  examination  of  Gongylus 


206  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

where  danger,  suspense,  and  dexterous  management  of 
men  are  combined  in  an  intense  and  dramatic  series  of 
incidents.  Nor  does  this  man  of  turbulent  acts  and 
schemes  suffer  any  lessening  in  majesty  or  manfulness, 
or  the  respect  these  command  in  tte  more  tender  inter- 
views with  Cleonice,  which  further  disclose  another 
motive  for  his  designs,  since  without  some  change  in 
Sparta,  union  with  her  was  impossible. 

In  every  phase  of  his  restless  career  is  shown  a  man 
of  iron  will  and  determined  purpose  hampered  by  rigid 
laws  which  gall  and  fret  him,  and  by  restraints  im- 
posed by  those  less  farseeing  but  equally  as  immovable 
as  himself,  until  irritation  changes  the  fettered  leader 
into  the  secret  foe.  But  whether  in  ambition,  passion, 
or  policy,  in  him  the  small,  the  mean,  the  trivial,  have 
no  place.  It  is  for  Sparta  rather  than  for  himself  that 
he  conspires.  His  aims,  however  blamable,  are  never 
ignoble. 

Bulwer's  intuition  and  insight  into  character  and 
motives  afford  elucidation  of  the  acts  and  aims  of  Pau- 
sanias,  without  which  all  we  know  of  him  but  serves  to 
furnish  an  enigma  in  conduct.  Whence  came  his  im- 
mense influence?  What  prompted  his  aggravating  pol- 
icy toward  the  allies?  Why  did  he  engage  in  treason- 
able correspondence  with  Persia?  Why  tamper  with 
the  Helots? 

It  is  only  by  adopting  the  views  advanced  in  this 
work  that  an  intelligible  explanation  of  all  the  Regent's 
acts  becomes  possible.  Admit  the  suggestion  that  in 
spite  of  Sparta  he  designed  a  larger  Sparta,  and  the 
power  which  a  man  takes  from  a  definite  purpose  to- 


PAUSANIAS  207 

ward  which  his  every  act  is  directed  accounts  not  only 
for  his  influence,  but  also  for  his  conduct  toward  the 
captains  of  the  fleet,  since  his  ends  would  be  served  if 
the  Athenians  in  disgust  departed  from  Byzantium. 
Foiled  in  this  design,  and  suspected  by  the  Five,  he 
faced  the  alternative  of  foregoing  his  schemes,  and  wit- 
nessing the  recession  of  Sparta  into  secondary  impor- 
tance or  an  alliance  with  Persia,  using  the  Helots  as 
means  to  his  ends.  He  chose  the  latter,  became  a  trai- 
tor, and  was  betrayed. 

Concerning  this  unfinished  romance  Bulwer,  wrote  to 
Richard  Bentley  as  follows: 

^^  October  6,  1850. 

*'I  feel  sure  I  could  make  a  very  powerful  and  effec- 
tive tale,  full  of  original  and  striking  matter  in  scene, 
plot,  and  character.  The  gorgeous  life  of  the  Mede  and 
Persian,  contrasting  with  the  severe  manners  of  the 
Spartan,  I  could  make  very  interesting.  Then  I  have 
such  good  incidents  —  a  murder  —  the  ancient  necro- 
mancy or  raising  of  the  dead  —  the  vast  conspiracy 
among  the  Helots  which  the  Regent  of  Sparta  (my  hero) 
secretly  headed,  and  which  if  successful  would  have 
shaken  all  Greece  —  and  a  final  catastrophe  of  great 
terror  in  which  Pausanias  is  walled  up  alive  in  the  tem- 
ple in  which  he  took  refuge,  his  own  mother  bringing 
the  first  stone.  There  are  other  characters  too,  in  which 
all  would  take  an  interest  —  the  great  Cimon  in  his 
youth  —  Aristides,  equally  just  and  profound  —  the 
wisdom  and  vigour  of  Themistocles.  It  is  true  that  the 
suibject  is  remote;  but  then  it  is  new,  and  as  I  have 
never  written  but  one  classical  romance  (which  was  very 


208  PEOSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

successful),  I  think  the  remoteness  would  be  overcome 
in  the  general  curiosity  to  see  how  I  should  treat  this. 
We  might,  too,  readily  change  the  title,  if  you  dislike  it, 
and  find  a  new  one.  The  story,  once  begun,  opens  at 
once  to  enchain  the  interest,  and  I  should  take  great 
pains  with  the  whole ;  it  would  be  a  labor  of  love  to  me. 
Lastly,  the  book  is  begun,  chalked  out.  History  sup- 
plies of  itself  incidents  more  exciting  than  I  could  in- 
vent. And  all  this  is  half  the  battle  in  point  of  complet- 
ing the  book  soon,  though  as  a  point  of  style  I  should 
probably  rewrite  much  of  what  I  have  written,  by  the 
taste  of  maturer  age.     Turn  this  over  well. ' ' 

The  vessel  in  which  the  author's  son  sent  the  manu- 
script of  Pausanias  from  Lisbon  to  England  foundered, 
and  its  cargo  was  lost,  but  some  weeks  afterward  the  pa< 
pers  were  recovered  in  a  solid  watersoaked  mass.  By 
subjection  to  a  sort  of  baking,  and  the  exercise  of  care 
and  patience,  the  leaves  were  separated  and  the  work 
made  available  for  the  printers. 


THE  CAXTONS 

THIS  work  is  in  all  respects  different  from  its 
predecessors.  The  earnestness  of  the  author  has 
hitherto  been  evident  and  unmistakable,  but  now 
the  object  aimed  at  admits  of  lessened  tension,  the  bow 
is  more  lightly  bent,  and  the  writer,  without  lapsing 
into  triviality  or  unnecessary  episodes  or  protractions, 
is  more  familiar  and  gracious.  The  quality  called  hu- 
mor, the  genial  manifestation  of  great  experience  and 
wide  knowledge,  which  playfully  suggests  enlightening 
congruities  and  illustrations,  and  which  differs  from  wit 
in  not  being  irreverent  nor  malicious  nor  superficial, 
pervades  The  Caxtons.  The  events  are  unexciting 
save  in  the  instance  where  Vivian 's  wild  scheme  is  foiled, 
but  the  manner  in  Which  they  are  related  reveals  a 
power  to  draw  forth  smiles  or  tears  by  mere  words  which 
had  never  before  been  so  charmingly  demonstrated.  The 
story  interests  less  than  the  characters,  which  are  drawn 
with  sureness  and  sustained  differentiation,  and  are  ad- 
mirably representative  of  the  varied  vocations  which  at- 
tract active  manhood. 

The  influence  of  home  in  the  making  of  a  man,  and 
the  importance  of  early  training  in  fixing  principles, 
establishing  habits,  and  supplying  motives  for  conduct, 
are  shown  in  this  record  of  the  progress  from  childhood 
to  man's  estate  of  the  biographer  of  The  Caxtons.     An- 


210  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

other  purpose  is  achieved  incidentally,  in  the  suggestion 
of  emigration  as  a  career  for  those  able  and  vigorous 
young  men  who  are  not  attracted  to  any  of  the  conven- 
tional professions,  and  find  themselves  crowded  out  of 
all  desirable  vocations  in  the  old  world. 

The  Caxton  home  is  a  dignfied  but  unpretentious  Eng- 
lish establishment.  The  family  comprises  Austin,  the 
father,  an  erudite  philosopher,  genial,  kindly,  and  im- 
perturbable; Katherine,  the  mother,  a  notable  house- 
wife, proud  of  her  husband,  tolerant  of  his  oddities,  un- 
ceasing in  her  care  for  his  comfort,  and  ambitious  that 
his  goodness,  as  well  as  his  knowledge,  may  be  known 
to  others;  Uncle  Roland,  a  maimed  old  soldier  with  im- 
movable ideas,  never  entirely  correct,  but  always  lofty 
and  stimulating,  about  honor,  ancestry,  duty,  and  hered- 
ity; Uncle  Jack,  fertile  in  plans  for  benefitting  human- 
ity, and  incidentally  promising  large  dividends,  schemes 
which  invariably  fail  because  of  their  philanthropic  en- 
cumbrances; Doctor  Squills,  a  frequent  guest,  odd,  ob- 
servant, and  prosperous;  and  Pisistratus,  the  son  whose 
experiences  supply  the  material  of  the  book. 

While  childhood  glides  toward  youth,  Master  Caxton 
is  the  mother's  care,  but  his  father  is  watchful,  and  im- 
parts lessons  in  his  own  way,  by  parables,  which  the  boy 
is  left  to  puzzle  out  for  himself.  Thus  he  is  taught  to 
be  truthful  in  spite  of  fear,  to  mend  bad  actions,  not  by 
good  wishes,  but  by  good  actions ;  to  find  in  self-sacrifice 
the  highest  happiness ;  and  to  know  that  his  best  friends, 
advisers,  and  comforters  are  always  those  at  home. 

His  school  life  is  uneventful,  but  when  he  comes  home 
for  good,  he  finds  his  uncles  have  been  added  to  the  f am- 


THE  CAXTONS  211 

ily  circle.  The  soldier,  by  example  and  precept,  has  an 
abiding  influence,  the  speculator  dazzles  for  awhile ;  but 
the  father  contrives  that  the  boy  shall  perceive  that 
Uncle  Jack's  projects  are  usually  based  on  incorrect 
estimates. 

It  has  been  settled  that  Pisistratus  is  to  go  to  Cam- 
bridge University,  but  a  chance  meeting  with  a  prom- 
inent member  of  Parliament  and  an  old  friend  of  the 
Caxtons  causes  this  step  to  be  deferred,  and  instead  he 
becomes  private  secretary  to  Mr.  Trevanion,  and  is  in- 
itiated into  practical  life,  familiarized  with  hard  and 
various  Work,  learns  much  of  public  men  and  political 
movements,  and  gains  an  acquaintance  with  the  higher 
social  life.  But  he  loses  his  heart  to  Fanny  Trevanion 
and  cannot  continue  his  work  and  suppress  his  feelings. 
Therefore  he  resigns  his  position.  Trevanion  is  touched 
by  the  frank  way  in  which  the  young  man  has  acted. 
His  daughter's  hand  must  be  bestowed  where  it  will  ad- 
vance his  own  political  importance,  but  he  envies  the 
father  of  such  a  son,  and  claims  the  privilege  of  aiding 
him  elsewhere. 

Pisistratus  resumes  his  preparations  for  Cambridge, 
but  though  a  bookman's  son,  his  nature  is  vigorous  and 
active  rather  than  contemplative.  Therefore  it  is  with 
resignation  instead  of  rapture  that  he  goes  to  the  uni- 
versity. At  the  end  of  his  first  term,  he  is  called  home 
by  alarming  letters  from  his  mother,  and  finds  that  one 
of  Uncle  Jack's  schemes  has  enmeshed  his  father,  and 
carried  away  two-thirds  of  the  Caxton  property.  Pis- 
istratus has  no  desire  to  return  to  Cambridge  now.  A 
serious  ambition  engrosses  him.     He  seeks  for  a  vocation 


212  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

where  within  a  reasonable  period  a  modest  fortune  may- 
be secured,  sufficient  to  restore  the  depleted  income  of 
his  parents,  and  provide  for  some  improvements.  As 
one  of  the  ''too  many"  he  thinks  he  would  find  in  emi- 
gration the  field  for  that  exuberant  vitality  for  which 
there  seems  to  be  no  scope  in  England,  and  Trevanion, 
whom  he  consults,  advises  sheep  farming  in  Australia, 
a  suggestion  which  is  approved  and  adopted.  He  sets 
about  acquiring  the  needful  skill,  preparing  for  the  work 
and  routine  of  such  a  career,  and  (a  harder  task)  win- 
ning his  parents'  consent  to  it.  A  reluctant  acquiescence 
is  obtained,  companions  are  selected,  preparations  com- 
pleted, and  accompanied  by  Uncle  Roland,  Pisistratus 
goes  to  London  to  say  farewell  to  the  Trevanions,  and 
then  begin  the  voyage. 

His  departure  is  delayed  by  an  adventure  wherein  he 
prevents  the  abduction  of  Fanny,  by  a  daring  and  des- 
perate wooer,  and  gains  another  companion  in  his  cousin, 
Roland's  son. 

Australian  life  has  its  vicissitudes,  but  by-and-by  the 
needed  fortune  is  accumulated.  Meanwhile  close  friend- 
ships have  been  formed,  and  various  acquaintances  made. 
Uncle  Jack,  successful  now  that  his  plans  are  not  weight- 
ed down  by  the  burden  of  humanity,  turns  up  as  a  pros- 
perous speculator  in  the  bush ;  and  the  lure  of  the  land, 
the  charm  of  the  life,  and  the  brightening  prospects,  all 
conspire  to  induce  Pisistratus  to  remain  a  colonist.  But 
the  duty  which  required  his  self -exile  can  now  be  dis- 
charged, and  he  returns  to  England,  to  restore  the  fam- 
ily fortunes,  and  take  his  part  in  the  Caxton  home. 

Commercialism  had  no  attractions,  political  life  made 


THE  CAXTONS  213 

no  appeal,  and  the  learned  professions  were  all  distaste- 
ful to  the  healthy,  strong  young  man,  who  nevertheless 
desired  exercise  for  his  abundantly  trained  faculties. 
Opportunity  was  not  to  be  found  in  England,  and  his 
restless  energy  prompted  to  a  severance  from  his  people, 
and  toils  in  a  new  world  to  which  he  readily  adapted 
himself.  But  home  was  associated  with  dear  memories, 
and  no  large  ambition  fired  his  mind.  Therefore  though 
travel  and  adventure  attracted  for  awhile,  home  and  its 
circle  drew  the  wanderer  back  and  he  realized  that  there 
the  largest  measure  of  contentment  and  happiness  await- 
ed him. 

The  most  attractive  character  in  the  work  is  Austin 
Caxton.  He  is  depicted  as  a  learned  man,  not  unfitted 
by  his  attainments  for  ordinary  life  and  business,  but 
refiecting  credit  on  erudition  because  his  stores  are  read- 
ily available  for  practical  purposes,  and  therefore  be- 
come wisdom;  and  manifesting  shrewd  judgment  and 
sagacity  in  all  affairs  where  his  interest  is  enlisted.  He 
is  averse  to  ceremonial  and  satisfied  with  the  society  of 
his  books,  but  to  his  friends  unfailingly  sympathetic 
and  helpful.  He  can  be  the  companion  of  a  child,  yet 
also  the  adviser  of  men  of  the  world.  His  familiarity 
with  books  causes  his  ordinary  conversation  to  abound 
in  playful  references  and  quotations.  His  vast  and  pur- 
poseful reading  is  indicated  by  the  outline  of  his  ''His- 
tory of  Human  Error,"  his  penetration  is  displayed  in 
his  interpretation  of  the  world's  pastoral  dreams  of 
peace  as  prognostications  of  war,  his  originality  is  evi- 
denced by  his  proposed  hygienic  application  of  books, 
and  by  his  recognition  of  the  good-out-of-evil  of  war. 


214  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Austin  Caxton  represents  philosophy,  mild,  beneficent 
and  helpful,  closely  allied  to  poetry  by  kinship  and  sym- 
pathy, and  always  finding  interest  in  its  suggestions; 
more  genial  than  science  because  experienced  in  human 
emotions  and  aware  of  their  importance  as  factors  in 
conduct;  wise  in  counsel  because  cultivated  in  every 
faculty,  not  in  one  talent  only;  inspiring  thought  in 
the  young,  consoling  the  disappointed,  aiding  the 
crushed,  changing  the  views  of  the  erring  and  winning 
affection  even  from  a  lame  duck.  He  regards  commer- 
cialism with  an  amused  curiosity,  and  ridiculing  its  af- 
fectation of  humanitarian  aims,  but  admiring  its  stimu- 
lating energy  when  frankly  exercising  the  selfish  pur- 
posefulness  which  is  natural  to  it,  and  under  the  influ- 
ence of  affection,  abandoning  the  caution  which  is  usual- 
ly an  accompaniment  of  philosophy,  and  joining  in  a 
commercial  venture  to  his  injury. 

The  veteran  Roland,  grim,  chivalrous,  and  tender  to 
all  but  himself,  is  a  noble  portrait  of  the  loyal  soldier 
whose  satisfaction  consists  in  the  knowledge  that  he  has 
done  his  duty.  Honors  and  preferments  have  been 
awarded  over  him  but  of  these  he  never  murmurs,  the 
medal  he  received  for  his  services  at  Waterloo  is  valued 
above  all  purchasable  commissions.  The  notions  of  fam- 
ily, duty,  and  honor,  which  a  less  scientific  generation 
than  the  present  revered  as  heredity,  have  guided  his 
life,  and  formed  his  character.  Unfortunate  in  his  mar- 
riage and  harassed  by  a  wilful,  rebellious  son,  he  bears 
"his  griefs  uncomplainingly,  hiding  from  all  but  Austin 
the  sacrifices  he  has  made  to  preserve  that  son  from 
criminality,  and  clinging  to  his  lonely  tower,  the  ruined 


THE  CAXTONS  215 

remnant  of  his  ancestor's  possessions,  in  the  hope  (ulti- 
mately realized)  that  the  wayward  one  might  yet  prove 
worthy  of  his  race. 

Roland  is  the  embodiment  of  poetry,  having  all  its 
youthfulness  of  feeling  and  sentiment,  and  displaying 
its  heroic,  forceful,  and  suggestive  qualities  in  conduct 
and  ideas,  dominated  in  action  and  thoughts  by  prin- 
ciples always  accepted  as  articles  of  faith,  and  disdain- 
ing the  reasoning  which  would  reduce  them  to  mutable 
and  impotent  matters  of  opinion;  reverencing  the  an- 
cient, the  noble,  the  brave,  hiding  sorrow  under  a  cheer- 
ful seeming  and  untiringly  active  when  duty  requires 
sacrifice,  or  right  demands  supporting  recognition. 

Uncle  Jack,  the  commercial  genius,  is  a  very  original 
character,  finding  everywhere  the  opportunity  for  com- 
bining beneficence  with  gaining  riches,  or  at  least 
starting  a  company  for  that  purpose.  All  his  schemes 
have  possibilities  in  them,  and  it  is  usually  because  of 
the  entangling  benevolent  features  that  they  fail.  At 
any  rate,  when  he  reverses  his  methods,  abandons  his 
fellow  creatures,  and  narrows  the  circle  of  prospective 
benefitters,  he  soon  becomes  prosperous  and  a  capitalist. 

The  portrait  of  Trevanion  is  a  very  interesting  study. 
An  ambitious,  laborious  member  of  Parliament  and  busy 
practical  man,  whose  energy  infects  others;  constantly 
improving  his  properties  and  his  homes,  building  up  his 
importance  and  aiming  at  power,  handicapped  by  al- 
ways seeing  more  than  one  side  of  a  question,  he  ulti- 
mately rises  to  Cabinet  rank  only  to  find  that  position 
intolerable  because  of  his  inability  to  act  with  his  party 
when  their  measures  are  obnoxious  to  him;  and  sub- 


216  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

siding  into  an  earldom,  repining  and  disappointed,  he 
is  constrained  to  leave  London  because  of  the  visitors 
who  stay  away. 

In  Sir  Sedley  Beaudesert  we  have  the  finished  gentle- 
man, a  survival  from  former  days,  the  representative 
aristocrat;  courteous,  considerate,  and  tactful,  with 
strength  concealed  by  exquisite  grace,  and  ability  only 
discovered  when  occasion  calls  for  its  use. 

Vivian,  misguided  and  wilful,  a  deserter  from  home, 
matching  his  courage  and  skill  against  the  world  and  not 
failing,  though  his  successes  were  perilous  and  threw 
him  among  undesirable  acquaintances  and  caused  him 
to  indulge  all  sorts  of  wrong  ideas,  yet  had  in  his  affec- 
tion and  pride,  qualities  which  at  last  effected  his  re- 
demption, and  won  him  back  to  paths  wherein  he  justi- 
fied his  friends'  faith  in  him,  and  became  again  a  source 
of  joy  to  Roland. 

Pisistratus  under  the  unobtruded  guidance  of  philos- 
ophy is  familiarized  with  poetry,  put  on  his  guard 
against  the  enthusiasm  of  com^nercialism,  and  enabled 
correctly  to  comprehend  the  qualities  needed  in  political 
life  and  the  rewards  and  disappointments  which  await 
those  who  conscientiously  follow  it  as  a  profession.  None 
of  these  promises  satisfactory  careers  to  one  who  regards 
duty  as  the  first  consideration  and  prefers  active  life  to 
contemplation.  When  financial  reverses  diminish  the 
comforts  of  the  Caxton  family  he  resolves  to  repair  the 
injury  and  chooses  an  unattractive  but  adventurous  ex- 
periment for  the  purpose.  His  end  achieved,  he  resists 
the  temptations  of  the  new  land  and  its  promises,  and  re- 


THE  CAXTONS  217 

turning  finds  the  discharge  of  duty  leads  not  only  to 
conscious  satisfaction  but  to  unexpected  blessing. 

The  characters  in  The  Caxtotis  are  generally  shown 
in  repose,  not  in  action.  It  is  by  their  modes  and  utter- 
ances that  we  are  made  acquainted  with  them.  This 
treatment  is  necessitated  by  the  subject  chosen,  for  the 
fancies  of  Roland  and  the  reasonings  of  Austin  could 
not  have  been  presented  so  attractively  in  any  other 
way.  But  in  this  respect  the  work  is  a  descent  from  its 
predecessors,  in  which  the  several  persons  were  present- 
ed under  stress,  in  conflict,  or  striving  purposefully; 
in  them  also,  the  attention  was  concentrated  more  on  the 
within  than  the  without.  What  they  thought  and  felt 
was  made  known  to  us,  rather  than  how  they  deported 
themselves. 

The  Cdxtons  was  written  concurrently  with  Lucretia, 
and  after  appearing  anonymously  in  Blackwood's  Mag- 
azine was  published  in  1849. 

Lucretia  traced  out  the  perverting  effects  of  evil  or 
negligent  early  training,  and  as  a  relief  from  the  pain- 
fulness  of  its  composition,  Bulwer  alternated  the  task  by 
also  writing  The  Caxtons,  a  companion  picture  teaching 
the  reverse  of  that  lesson. 

Its  reception  by  the  journals  illustrates  one  of  the  in- 
jurious results  of  contemporaneous  misjudgment  on 
writers.  No  one  had  a  more  profound  contempt  for 
that  expression  of  uninformed  pretentiousness  which  is 
called  reviewing  than  the  author  of  The  Caxtons; 
and  his  knowledge  of  art,  its  various  forms  and  highest 
developments,  was  larger  than  that  of  any  of  his  con- 


218  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

temporaries.  Yet  the  relation  of  the  successful  author 
to  the  modern  public  is  such  that  he  is  constrained  to 
subordinate  his  own  artistic  designs  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  taste  of  the  day,  and  the  reiterated  pronounce- 
ments of  disapproval  of  very  great  works,  and  appreci- 
ation of  lighter  productions,  had  effect  even  on  Bulwer, 
for  projected  studies  of  profound  importance  were  aban- 
doned, and  he  resigned  himself  to  less  ambitious  com- 
positions. From  the  grand  and  tragic  he  refrained.  The 
pleasing  and  agreeable  received  more  attention,  and  the 
altitudes  native  to  Zanoni  and  Lucretia  were  but  oc- 
casionally reascended  in  later  works. 


MY  NOVEL 

THE  authorship  of  this  depiction  of  the  varieties  of 
English  life  is  ascribed  to  the  biographer  of  The 
Caxtons ;  and  as  every  writer  draws  from  his  own 
observations,  experiences,  and  remembrances,  naturally 
and  necessarily,  incidents  and  characters  described  in 
The  Caxtons  reappear  in  My  Novel  —  not  copied,  for 
transcription  is  only  a  journeyman's  work,  but  recogniz- 
able as  ideal  representations  of  events  in  which  he  took 
part,  and  persons  with  whom  he  was  brought  into  contact. 
Thus  the  abduction  of  Violante,  although  the  details 
are  in  every  particular  different,  had  its  origin  in  the 
snare  arranged  for  Fanny  Trevanion;  Richard  Aveling 
was  suggested  by  Uncle  Jack;  Audley  Egerton  by  Tre- 
vanion; Harley  L 'Estrange  by  Sir  Sedley  Beaudesert; 
and  the  kindly  homeopathist  by  Doctor  Squills.  Some 
discernible  resemblances  were  necessary  to  justify  the 
assigned  authorship,  and  this  detail  was  not  neglected. 
My  Novel  is  constructed  in  accordance  with  the  old 
fashion  of  narrative  fiction.  Each  division  has  an  in- 
troduction, the  catastrophe  assembles  all  the  important 
characters  together,  and  a  final  chapter  gives  particulars 
of  the  after-fates  of  those  in  whom  interest  had  been 
aroused. 

The  purpose  of  the  work  is  that  of  promoting  more 
cordial  relations  between  rich  and  poor,  by  counteract- 


220  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ing  the  teachings  of  those  who  seek  to  set  class  against 
class ;  by  discouraging  the  mercenary  and  ignoble  appli- 
cation of  knowledge ;  by  inculcating  the  wisdom  of  self - 
improvement  as  the  first  step  in  general  reform ;  and  by 
reiterating  the  importance  of  the  neglected  virtue  of  pa- 
tience. But  its  lasting  lessons  are  conveyed  in  the  con- 
trasting results  of  knowledge  worthily  sought  and  nobly 
applied,  and  of  knowledge  perverted  and  used  for  mean 
ends. 

The  characteristics  of  My  Novel  are  its  large  tolerance, 
its  geniality  and  the  multitude  of  original  and  interest- 
ing personages  with  whom  it  makes  us  intimately  ac- 
quainted. Its  incidents  range  from  the  quaint  to  the 
impressive.  The  varying  happenings  at  the  stocks; 
Richard  Aveling's  courtship;  Burley's  allegory  of  the 
one-eyed  perch;  the  discomfiture  of  Peschiera;  and  the 
unmasking  of  Randal  are  all  excellent  inventions,  but 
the  fluctuating  Lansmere  election,  the  poignant  inter- 
view between  the  estranged  Harley  and  his  life-long 
friend,  and  the  death  of  Egerton  are  the  supreme  chap- 
ters in  the  book.  Though  in  the  many  characters  de- 
picted the  admirable  representatives  of  the  several 
classes  are  made  most  prominent,  the  existence  of  other 
sorts  is  not  ignored.  The  prosperity  of  Hazledean  is 
neighbored  by  the  squalor  of  Rood  Hall.  Beside  the 
pushing,  noisy,  humbugging  Richard  Aveling  we  have 
the  calvinistic  trader's  wife,  to  whom  the  reputation  of 
the  dead  is  of  more  consequence  than  the  success  of  the 
living;  and  accompanying  the  cabinet  minister  whose 
name  is  a  synonjrm  for  honor  and  integrity,  we  have 
his  protege  —  coveting,  scheming,  and  ignoble. 


MY  NOVEL  221 

My  Novel  is  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  general 
phases  of  life  in  England  during  the  pre- Victorian  era. 
It  begins  with  the  rural  community  of  Hazledean,  with 
its  bluff  Squire,  loving  his  estate  as  if  it  were  a  living 
thing,  hating  to  see  any  of  his  property  out  of  order, 
with  many  prejudices  and  some  unwisdom,  but  always 
generous,  well-meaning,  and  warm-hearted;  Parson 
Dale,  sharing  the  cares  and  hopes  of  his  flock,  soothing, 
chiding,  admonishing,  and  encouraging,  never  evading 
any  duty,  and  only  perturbed  by  the  little  tempers  of 
his  wife ;  the  domiciled  Italian  exile  whose  large  general 
knowledge  of  mankind  contrasts  the  parson's  limited 
but  more  practical  lore  of  men,  and  who  with  his  devoted 
servant,  his  pipe,  and  philosophy,  contrives  to  endure 
semi-starvation  with  equanimity;  the  pattern-boy  Leon- 
ard Fairfield,  who  receives  here  his  first  experience  of 
man's  injustice,  but  also  such  preparation  for  useful 
manhood  as  wise  direction  of  studies,  stimulating  coun- 
sel, and  useful  examples  can  bestow. 

From  the  humble  joys  and  griefs  of  Hazledean,  we 
accompany  Leonard  to  the  busy  industrial  centre  of 
Screwton,  where  the  Americanised  Richard  Aveling  with 
his  big  factory  is  successfully  demolishing  his  smaller 
rivals,  and  eulogising  competition,  until  a  larger  cap- 
italist with  a  more  huge  establishment  drives  him  into 
the  clutches  of  money-lenders,  near  to  that  bourne  of 
competition  —  bankruptcy  —  and  so  changes  his  opin- 
ions that  a  combination  is  effected,  ruin  averted,  and 
prosperity  assured.  Meanwhile  the  new  man  is  busy 
forcing  himself  into  importance,  building  up  a  political 
machine  after  the  American  plan,  securing  a  prominent 


222   .       PROSE  ROMANCES  OP  BULWER 

position  in  the  social  coterie,  abusing  the  aristocracy 
and  yearning  for  a  title,  and  by  his  energy  and  example 
transforming  the  appearance  of  the  place :  ' '  There  was 
not  a  plate-glass  window  in  the  town  when  I  came  into 
it,  and  now  look  down  the  High  street." 

Thence  we  journey  to  London,  the  converging  point 
of  the  agencies  which  influence  civilization,  with  its 
splendid  rewards  for  the  successful,  and  its  river  for 
those  who  fail.  There  we  encounter  those  diverse  ex- 
amples of  journalism,  the  improvident,  gifted  Burley 
and  the  prudent,  matter-of-fact  Norreys.  There  the 
bland  Levy  is  useful  and  accommodating  to  spendthrift 
youths,  gathering  to  himself  their  substance,  but  not 
their  respect,  and  using  for  further  aggrandisement  the 
power  which  loans  have  made  him  master  of.  And 
there  practical  life  has  its  characteristic  representa- 
tive and  victim  in  Audley  Egerton,  the  apparently 
prosperous,  satisfied,  and  envied  minister,  to  whom  offi- 
cial life  has  become  a  necessity,  and  who  in  laboring  for 
the  welfare  of  the  state,  has  sacrificed  fortune,  health, 
and  happiness,  without  securing  contentment. 

A  brilliant  example  of  the  figure  to  which  the  Latin 
rhetoricians  gave  the  name  of  expectatio,  occurs  in  the 
persentation  of  Harley  L 'Estrange,  the  hero  of  My 
Novel  He  is  spoken  of,  referred  to,  or  described  in 
every  book,  and  each  time  our  curiosity  and  interest 
are  increased. 

In  the  fifth  book  we  meet  him,  and  note  that  he  is 
odd,  tactful,  kindly,  and  considerate.  Every  succeeding 
book  adds  to  our  knowledge  of  his  lovable  disposition, 
tenacity  of  affection,  and  natural  ability,  and  gradually 


MY  NOVEL  223 

we  are  made  aware  that  he  possesses  also  the  powers  and 
capacities  of  a  leader  and  manager  of  men.  Violante's 
peril  energises  all  his  faculties.  His  indifference  dis- 
appears, he  becomes  active,  resourceful,  quick  in  his 
penetration  into  character  and  motive,  fertile  and  in- 
genious in  counterplot  and  plan,  and  expeditious  in  ex- 
ecution. From  thenceforth  he  is  the  commanding  fig- 
ure, surpassing,  versatile,  excellent  in  all  his  acts,  and 
as  terrible  and  irresistible  as  Achilles. 

In  Harley  L 'Estrange  are  combined  unvarying  hon- 
or, wide  culture,  dauntless  courage,  and  courteous  de- 
portment. He  is  constant  in  friendship,  beneficent  and 
sympathetic  always,  active  wherever  good  needs  aid  or 
evil  calls  for  resistance,  and  displaying  magnificent  ca- 
pacity when  occasion  demands  its  exercise. 

Genius  has  a  deserved  and  worthy  position  in  our 
esteem.  The  land-owner,  earnest  and  constant  in  im- 
proving his  estate  and  ameliorating  the  condition  of  his 
tenants,  wins  our  commendation;  the  successful  manu- 
facturer makes  his  usefulness  evident,  attains  position, 
and  commands  respect;  the  practical  man,  regarding 
loyalty  to  his  party,  thoroughness  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duties,  and  even  the  sacrifice  of  private  life,  as  the 
necessary  conditions  of  his  career,  receives  our  cordial 
approval  and  praise;  but  the  gentleman  is  the  flower 
of  civilized  life,  and  for  him  we  feel  at  once  admiration 
and  reverence.  In  the  poet,  the  squire,  the  trader,  the 
statesman,  the  qualities  shown  in  departmental  voca- 
tions engage  our  regard;  but  L*Estrange  is  great  in 
every  emergency  or  duty,  and  the  range  of  these  calls 
out  a  wide  variety  of  powers. 


224  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

When  his  early  disappointment  caused  self  blame  and 
regret  and  sorrow,  it  was  in  active  warfare  that  he 
sought  relief  from  bitter  memories,  and  on  many  a  field 
he  found  fame,  but  not  consolation.  When  his  Italian 
friend,  disregarding  his  warnings  against  the  rash 
schemes  of  revolutionists,  found  himself  deserted,  be- 
trayed, and  proscribed,  his  escape  was  facilitated  by 
L 'Estrange 's  timely  and  desperate  interference.  And 
later  Riccabocca's  restoration  was  eifected  as  a  result 
of  the  unrelaxing  labors  of  the  Englishman.  The  sol- 
dier's child  found  in  him  a  guardian,  and  the  despondent 
poet  a  friend.  And  always,  from  schoolboy  days  on- 
ward, his  affection  for  Egerton  continued  unabated,  un- 
clouded, until  the  late-found  record  revealed  the  ground- 
lessness of  his  regrets,  and  the  treachery  of  his  chosen 
friend.  Then  in  the  revulsion  of  his  feelings  he  plans 
a  crushing  revenge  on  the  man  who  had  deceived  him, 
which,  however  strong  his  justification,  would  have  sul- 
lied his  honor,  and  demeaned  him.  His  triumph  over 
himself,  aided  somewhat  by  religion,  more  by  love,  is 
his  greatest  and  worthiest  achievement.  That  contest 
with  his  evil  purpose,  resulting  in  the  interview  and 
reconciliation  with  Egerton,  is  matchless  for  intensity  and 
restraint,  and  from  it  with  all  hateful  memories  banished, 
friendship  renewed,  and  self-respect  restored  he  hastens 
to  do  and  undo;  secures  Egerton 's  election,  exposes  the 
machinations  of  Randal,  presents  Leonard  to  his  father, 
and  wins  in  Violante  a  bride  who,  exalting  and  inspiring, 
gives  what  had  hitherto  been  lacking  —  purpose  and  mo- 
tive for  sustained  participation  in  the  great  activities 
af  Hf  e. 


MY  NOVEL  225 

Audley  Egerton,  contrasting  the  frank,  open,  and 
sympathetic  L 'Estrange,  is  reserved,  austere,  and  formal. 
He  has  attained  to  power  and  influence  with  the  party 
to  whose  interests  he  has  devoted  time,  wealth,  energy, 
and  thought.  Solitary  and  unemotional  as  he  seems,  it 
was  nevertheless  as  an  escape  from  memories  of  a  loss 
which  blighted  all  possibilities  of  joy  that  he  threw 
himself  into  a  political  career,  and  sought  escape  from 
private  life  by  devoting  himself  to  the  arid  routine  of 
Parliament.  As  a  member  of  the  Cabinet,  weighty  in 
debate,  clear  sighted  in  his  views,  irreproachable  in 
conduct,  and  lavish  in  expenditure,  he  has  become  an 
important,  respected,  and  envied  man;  yet  one  trans- 
gression in  a  life  otherwise  flawless  has  deprived  success 
of  all  satisfaction.  In  a  mission  honestly  undertaken 
in  the  service  of  L  'Estrange,  under*  the  stress  of  passion 
and  surprise,  he  betrayed  his  friend,  trusting  that  the 
future  would  provide  occasion  for  confession  and  for- 
giveness. That  time  never  arrives;  and  the  proud  and 
honored  statesman  suffers  and  fears,  for  his  deceit  may 
be  discovered,  and  the  only  man  whose  good  opinion  he 
values  has  the  right  to  despise  him. 

Careless  of  all  else  than  the  esteem  of  his  friend, 
Egerton  allows  his  wealth  to  waste,  and  has  to  resort 
to  the  money-lender.  His  health  becomes  impaired,  but 
nothing  in  his  bearing  or  conduct  reveals  these  misfor- 
tunes.    He  continues  to  appear  rich,  strong,  honorable. 

When  circumstances  make  L 'Estrange  aware  that  his 
remorse  was  groundless  and  his  chosen  friend  a  deceiver, 
in  his  wrath  he  devises  and  begins  to  carry  out  a  retalia- 
tory deceit  which   would  leave  Egerton  bankrupt  of 


226  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

means  and  reputation;  but  after  an  interview  with 
Audley,  all  desire  for  revenge  passes  away,  the  brief 
estrangement  ends  in  a  deeper  affection,  and  L  'Estrange 
secures  the  triumph  instead  of  the  humiliation  of  his 
friend. 

And  when  the  election  has  closed  and  Egerton  is  vic- 
torious, when  brighter  prospects  are  opening,  higher 
position  and  greater  honors  assured,  and  two  homes 
await  him,  death  strides  into  the  circle  and  for  ever 
closes  against  him  the  path  to  the  missed  and  pined  for 
private  life. 

In  the  history  of  Leonard,  the  progress  of  genius  is 
illustrated.  From  contemplation,  reverie,  and  solitude 
it  passes  to  the  actual  and  positive,  in  which  uncongen- 
ial field  it  perceives  the  common  and  ignoble  springs  of 
action,  sees  ambition  leagued  with  selfseeking,  and  love 
a  matter  of  calculation ;  is  bullied  and  buffeted  and  com- 
manded, until  natural  affection  being  menaced,  genius 
resigns  its  apparently  advantageous  prospects,  and  goes 
on  its  way  to  a  larger  destiny.  Even  when  its  own 
path  is  clouded  and  uncertain,  it  accepts  responsibility 
and  affords  help  to  the  forlorn.  In  the  practical  world, 
though  rarely  recognised,  it  bears  its  part;  strives,  suf- 
fers, and  grows,  deriving  benefit  both  from  its  own  er- 
rors and  failures  and  from  these  which  it  witnesses  in 
others. 

Presently  it  is  put  to  school  with  experience,  is  taught 
method  and  acquires  discipline,  and  then  the  results  of 
patient  observation  and  severe  thought  are  given  to 
the  world  effectively  and  with  success.  Always  while 
fulfilling  its  own  purposes  and  acquiring  fuller  knowl- 


MY  NOVEL  227 

edge  of  things  material  to  itself,  it  aids  and  benefits  oth- 
ers; and  still,  as  it  is  subjected  to  more  bitter  trials, 
its  natural  dignity  and  nobility  enable  it  to  submit  to 
the  sacrifice  of  ambition  and  even  of  hope,  but  ultimate- 
ly the  path  it  follows  leads  to  serenity,  satisfaction,  and 
content. 

Randal  Leslie  is  described  and  dissected  with  elabor- 
ate care;  an  egotist  regarding  his  own  interest  solely, 
oblivious  of  duty  and  its  claims,  devoting  his  undenia- 
ble ability  to  the  base  purpose  of  turning  knowledge 
into  power.  His  innate  selfishness  is  displayed  in  the 
first  action  we  see  him  perform,  that  of  removing  the 
crossing-stones  at  the  ford.  He  intends  to  return  by 
another  way,  and  the  needs  of  others  do  not  concern 
him.  His  slovenly  home  has  no  humanising  influence 
over  him,  though  to  restore  that  home  to  its  former  pros- 
perity is  the  object  he  sets  before  him.  For  the  pros- 
perous he  has  only  envy,  for  the  unfortunate  no  con- 
sideration. He  betrays  the  poor  exile  to  his  foe,  and 
assists  in  Pescheira's  villainy  for  a  reward;  he  plots  the 
ruin  of  his  friend,  and  seeks  to  profit  by  the  defeat  of 
his  patron.  He  covets  wealth  and  position,  and  for 
these  he  schemes  tirelessly  and  unscrupulously  and  comes 
very  near  success,  only  to  fail  as  miserably  and  irre- 
trievably as  history  shows  his  kind  —  the  Borgias  and 
Richards  —  always  fail.  Intellectual  power  stripped  of 
beneficence  resembles  the  principle  of  evil,  and  as  Par- 
son Dale  points  out,  even  he  was  a  failure. 

Yiolante,  who  grows  from  affectionate  childhood  into 
regal  beauty  during  the  progress  of  the  work,  is  the 
typical  inspirer  to  high  deeds  and  noble  purposes.    She 


228  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

regretted  being  a  useless  girl  because  a  woman  sighs 
' '  I  wish, ' '  but  a  man  should  say  ' '  I  will. ' '  To  her  the 
contented  and  inactive  appeared  little  less  unworthy  than 
the  mean.  United  to  L  'Estrange,  she  revived  his  love  of 
fame,  and  strengthened  it  into  purposeful  act,  shared 
his  labors,  gloried  in  his  triumphs,  and  found  blessing 
in  the  new  pride  which  his  parents  felt  in  him,  who  now 
fulfilled  the  promise  of  his  youth,  because  he  had  found 
what  he  then  sought  in  vain. 

Helen  is  more  retiring  than  Violante.  Her  early  ex- 
periences of  life's  hardships  which  developed  the  woman 
in  her  before  childhood  had  passed,  has  stilled  all  ambi- 
tion, either  for  herself  or  for  others.  But  it  has  also 
made  her  firm  in  will,  thoughtful  for  others,  and  com- 
passionate to  all.  Under  her  prudent  rule  no  household 
cares  will  ever  trouble  her  poet-husband.  The  serenity 
essential  to  the  production  of  all  great  work  will  be  his 
always,  and  though  critics  may  assail  and  lampoon,  their 
malice  will  never  affect  the  home  where  woman  the 
comforter  reigns. 

Nora  Aveling,  whose  tragic  history  connects  the  var- 
ious fates  of  the  characters  whose  lives  and  acts  we  are 
made  acquainted  with,  affects  each  of  those  who  meet 
or  learn  of  her,  as  poetry  influences  its  readers.  She 
awakens  mind  in  the  peasant-lover,  and  genius  in  the 
boy  who  knows  not  that  he  is  her  son.  She  induces  mel- 
ancholy and  inaction  in  the  brilliant  L  'Estrange,  impels 
to  ceaseless  toil  for  unobtainable  forgetfulness  the  am- 
bitious Egerton;  inspires  jealousy  and  envy  in  the  un- 
scrupulous Levy,  and  gives  solace  to  the  disappointed 
and  beaten  Burley.     And  as  the  unhappy  fate  of  a  poet 


MY  NOVEL  229 

often  gains  a  more  lasting  regard  for  his  works,  so  it  is 
the  pitiful  ending  of  Nora's  life  which  intensifies  the 
spell  of  her  memory. 

The  composition  of  My  Novel  was  begun  in  1849,  when 
Bulwer  was  a  sojourner  at  Nice.  After  appearing  in 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  it  was  published  in  1853. 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO  WITH  IT  ? 

WHAT  will  he  do  with  it?  is  the  oft  recurring 
question  in  respect  of  the  opportunities  and  ac- 
quisitions of  the  several  persons  whose  actions 
give  interest  to  a  work  which  sets  before  us  a  number  of 
unusually  engaging  characters,  describes  their  attitude 
toward  society,  which  has  not  used  them  well,  explains 
the  motives  and  consequences  of  renunciations  which  in 
the  instances  of  those  most  prominently  depicted  have 
been  extraordinary,  and  presents  some  rare  examples  of 
human  affection. 

A  great  orator  and  parliamentarian  abandons  his 
career  and  foregoes  the  purpose  to  which  he  had  devoted 
all  his  powers,  because  the  woman  he  loved  proved  faith- 
less. An  honorable  man  steps  from  his  place  among 
gentlemen  and  accepts  the  stigma  and  punishment  of  a 
convicted  felon,  from  parental  devotion ;  and  a  woman  of 
culture  and  refinement  relinquishes  all  her  prospects 
and  possibilities,  and  dedicates  her  life  to  the  task  of 
thwarting  the  designs  of  the  lawless  ingrate  who  had 
been  the  lover  of  her  youth,  winning  him  back  to  decency. 
In  plot  and  construction  the  work  is  flawless,  its  per- 
sonages are  consistently  and  adequately  developed,  the 
observations  on  man  and  conduct  are  astute  and  illumin- 
ating, and  the  descriptions  of  scenery,  which  evince  a 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO  WITH  IT?  231 

wistful  fondness  for  out-of-door  objects,  though  brief 
are  many. 

That  sorrows  and  calamities  may  have  a  beneficent 
mission  and  be  salutary  agencies  when  properly  exam- 
ined, is  the  lesson  of  the  story,  which  in  following  the 
rising  fortunes  of  Lionel  Haughton  finds  in  the  succes- 
sion of  persons  with  whom  he  is  brought  in  contact  the 
materials  here  elaborated  into  a  very  powerful  whole. 

Piquant  headings  precede  each  chapter ;  the  incidents 
are  abundant,  novel,  and  varied ;  there  are  many  master- 
ly descriptions  and  impassioned  scenes,  a  satirical  ac- 
count of  the  house  of  Vipont  considered  as  an  entity, 
maintaining  its  importance  and  increasing  its  influence 
through  the  centuries,  which  suggests  a  new  possibility 
in  historical  writing ;  and  a  matchless  portrayal  of  three 
society  beauties. 

These  however  are  all  subsidiary  to  the  delineation  and 
development  of  characters  of  striking  originality,  whose 
respective  strengths  and  weaknesses  are  unfolded  with 
a  fulness  proportioned  to  their  importance  in  the  nar- 
rative. 

Guy  Darrell  is  one  of  Bulwer's  grandest  creations. 
The  depiction  of  a  great  man,  no  longer  young,  yet  sub- 
ject to  the  passion  which  woman  inspires,  is  fraught 
with  difiiculties ;  for  as  years  advance,  love  usually  sub- 
sides into  its  proper  place  as  but  one  (and  that  not  the 
most  important)  of  life's  experiences;  and  its  persist- 
ence as  a  master-force  may  reasonably  be  regarded  as  an 
evidence  of  weakness  in  its  mature  victim.  Yet  no  sug- 
gestion of  the  ridiculous  attaches  to  this  portrait.  Dar- 
rell's  dignity  is  never  detracted  from,  nor  does  the  re- 


232  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

spect  he  commands  suffer  any  derogation,  and  the  in- 
terest he  inspires  is  preserved  unimpaired  to  the  end. 

The  descendant  of  a  race  more  venerated  for  its  de- 
cay, with  collected  purpose  and  resolute  will  he  set  him- 
self single-handed  to  the  task  of  undoing  the  work  of 
ages,  and  restoring  his  line  to  its  place  of  dignity  in  the 
land.  A  prosperous  experience  at  the  bar  gave  him 
wealth;  as  an  orator  in  parliament  he  won  fame;  and 
just  when  a  future  of  honor  and  power  was  opening 
to  him,  he  suddenly  withdrew  from  active  life  and  se- 
cluded himself  at  his  ancestral  home.  To  the  public, 
family  bereavement  accounted  for  his  retirement,  but 
the  actual  cause  was  the  marriage  of  his  betrothed  to  the 
Marquis  of  Montford,  which  blighted  his  hopes,  left  am- 
bition objectless,  and  made  him  doubtful  of  all  human 
faith;  and  though  he  preserved  such  silence  about  his 
attachment  that  his  friends  were  unaware  of  it,  it  lasted 
in  all  its  intensity.  Nowhere  could  he  find  one  whose 
attractions  could  banish  the  memory  of  her  into  whose 
hands  he  had  given  his  future,  and  therefore  the  career 
sought  with  energy  and  advanced  with  success  was  vol- 
untarily resigned  for  a  home  without  neighbors  and  a 
hearth  without  children. 

How  important  he  would  have  made  the  Darrells  is 
shown  by  the  vast,  unfinished,  and  abandoned  mansion, 
with  which  he  had  intended  to  replace  the  unassumiug 
manor  house,  and  by  the  works  of  art  collected  for  its 
adornment,  now  sitowed  away  and  neglected.  House 
and  treasures  typical  of  the  uncompleted  life  and  fruit- 
less attainments  of  the  man. 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO  WITH  IT?  233 

That  Darrell  's  reputation  was  not  undeserved  is  made 
manifest  to  us  by  his  impassioned  earnestness,  his  felici- 
tous quotations,  the  noble  poetry  of  some  of  his  utter- 
ances, his  quick  perceptions,  his  ability  to  praise,  and 
also  by  his  sensitiveness  and  ready  response  to  all  appeals 
to  worthy  emotions.  His  commanding  presence,  large 
information,  and  disciplined  powers,  are  supplemented 
by  his  evident  sincerity;  and  because  he  feels,  he  has 
the  power  to  impress  others. 

The  restoration  which  he  undertook  to  accomplish 
was  not  an  ignoble  end,  but  it  should  have  been  but  a 
portion  of  a  larger  purpose.  It  ought  to  have  expanded 
into  objects  embracing  humanity.  And  because  his  am- 
bition was  restricted  to  the  mere  building  up  of  a  house, 
it  narrowed  his  usefulness  and  developed  in  him  an  in- 
ordinate pride.  And  all  the  sorrows  of  his  life  had  been 
directed  against  that  pride,  and  toward  the  frustration 
of  that  design.  Because  of  his  devotion  to  an  ancestor's 
name  he  had  sacrificed  his  own  hold  on  the  respect  of  the 
future  without  securing  satisfaction  in  the  present,  and 
on  the  confines  of  age  he  reluctantly  resigned  his  baffled 
purpose,  and  endeavored  to  content  himself  with  the 
partial  completion  of  his  plans  promised  by  the  adoption 
and  carrying  forward  of  the  Darrell  name  by  his  heir. 

The  natural  nobility  of  the  man  is  evidenced  by  the 
thoroughness  with  which  he  sacrifices  his  pride  as  soon 
as  he  realizes  that  it  has  been  a  fault,  not  a  virtue,  and 
his  desire,  when  he  sees  that  it  stands  in  the  way  of  the 
happiness  of  others.  And  as  a  consequence  of  his  conquest 
of  self,  explanations  become  possible  which  prevent  his 


234  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

meditated  expatriation,  and  render  probable  the  comple- 
tion of  the  unfinished  house  and  the  resumption  of  the 
suspended  career. 

William  Losely,  after  taking  upon  himself  the  punish- 
ment for  a  crime  committed  by  his  son  in  the  hope  that 
his  expiation  might  be  rewarded  by  Jasper's  redemp- 
tion, finds  that  his  sacrifice  has  been  in  vain.  The  boy- 
robber  has  grown  into  a  hardened  glorier  in  infamy,  and 
to  save  that  son's  child  from  her  father,  he  takes  charge 
of  Sophy.  Together  they  wander,  seeking  obscurity, 
hiding  under  other  names,  avoiding  friendships,  and  re- 
sorting to  varied  shifts  and  ingenious  expedients,  in  or- 
der to  keep  their  whereabouts  unknown.  To  earn  a  live- 
lihood, he  is  by  turns  a  strolling  player,  a  demonstrator 
of  animal  sagacity,  a  pedlar,  and  a  basket  maker.  Old, 
lame,  one-eyed  and  poor,  he  neither  complains  nor  re- 
grets, but  sees  always  that  providence  has  been  good  to 
him,  for  his  misfortunes  have  developed  virtues  and  per- 
ceptions which  his  former  life  as  genial  boon  companion 
and  hanger-on  of  rural  Thanes  would  have  kept  dormant 
for  ever.  In  every  evil  he  finds  a  compensating  good, 
and  though  travel-worn  and  anxious,  he  keeps  his  fear 
to  himself,  jests  about  his  troubles,  and  is  always!  sunny 
and  playful  and  tender. 

The  commune  of  these  two,  experienced  age  and  affec- 
tionate childhood,  is  very  beautiful.  Equals  in  sim- 
plicity and  trust,  they  confer  together  and  plan,  and 
comfort  each  other,  she  proud  and  delighted  to  take  care 
of  him,  he  choosing  easy  words  to  make  his  explanations 
clear.  Differences  in  their  views  and  judgments  are  in- 
dicated which  jar  with  our  theories  of  heredity,  for  he 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO  WITH  IT?  235 

loves  acting  because  of  the  excitement,  she  is  the  part 
she  assumes;  and  the  pretense  in  life  which  he  regards 
as  fun  is  revolting  to  her  because  it  is  not  truth. 

By-and-by  his  innocence  is  made  clear  and  his  name 
assoiled,  without  the  guilty  one  being  punished.  He  is 
restored  to  his  rightful  station  and  welcomed  by  old 
friends,  and  has  other  proofs  that  providence  is  good  to 
him. 

Arabella  Crane  sujffered  unpardonable  wrongs  because 
of  her  misplaced  trust  in  Jasper,  who  basely  deceived 
and  deserted  her.  Years  afterward  she  meets  her  recre- 
ant betrayer,  changed  from  the  all-attracting  beauty  of 
his  youth,  but  still  handsome  and  strong  and  fascinating. 
She  endeavors  to  lead  him  into  an  honest  way  of  Hfe, 
and  strives  to  make  conditions  pleasant  for  him,  but  his 
passion  for  gambling  cannot  be  displaced  by  any  tame 
occupation,  and  soon  he  reverts  to  his  old  habits;  and 
after  repeated  oscillations  between  good  and  bad  luck, 
each  of  which  embruits  him  further,  he  joins  in  criminal 
schemes  with  others  as  reckless  as  himself. 

Though  her  experiences  with  this  magnificent  good- 
for-nothing  would  justify  hatred  and  revenge,  this  wom- 
an cherishes  no  thought  of  either.  Her  home  is  always 
open  to  him,  and  whenever  he  has  no  other  shelter  he  re- 
turns to  her.  But  she  Avinds  herself  into  all  his  confi- 
dences, and  with  abounding  resourcefulness  devotes  her 
energies  to  the  frustration  of  his  villanies  and  the  re- 
demption of  himself.  She  has  taken  his  life  into  her 
keeping,  and  though  all  her  labors  to  turn  its  course  into 
safer  channels  end  in  disappointment,  she  never  relin- 
quishes the  hope  that  he  will  be  induced  to  reform. 


236  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Years  of  untiring  vigilance  avail  nothing,  but  when  at 
length  the  powerful  brute  is  reduced  to  helplessness  by- 
paralysis,  her  hands  close  over  him,  she  nurses  and  waits 
upon  him,  and  finds  joy  and  reward  in  the  fact  that  he 
now  needs  her  and  misses  her  if  she  leaves  him  for  a 
moment. 

Jasper  Losely,  with  splendid  physical  endowments  and 
fitting  education,  from  the  lack  of  all  moral  qualities  be- 
comes a  heart-breaker,  a  lady-killer,  and  a  gambler,  and 
has  never  a  qualm  of  conscience  on  account  of  the  mis- 
eries he  causes.  Selfish,  wasteful,  inconstant  and  un- 
grateful, there  is  nothing  commendable  about  him,  nor 
anything  admirable  save  the  strength  and  force  which 
he  abuses.  Immediate  gratification  regardless  of  the  fu- 
ture is  all  he  cares  for,  and  mean  and  paltry  and  brief, 
in  comparison  with  what  might  have  been,  are  his  gains. 
Spendthrift,  swindler,  and  dare-devil,  hated  by  his  fel- 
low-bravos  and  a  menace  to  all,  this  dreadnought  comes 
to  have  a  superstitious  fear  of  his  only  friend,  the  wom- 
an he  wronged  and  humiliated,  who  has  saved  him  from 
dangers,  and  repaid  his  injuries  with  kindness.  And  his 
terror  grows,  for  he  finds  that  he  cannot  escape  from 
her;  and  she  masters  and  cows  him,  before  the  stroke 
which  made  the  strong  man  weak,  and  afterward  she 
constrains  him  into  acts  of  confession  and  restitution, 
and  causes  him  to  desire  the  forgiveness  of  those  he  had 
wronged. 

Alban  Morley,  soldier  and  gentleman,  prudent,  wise, 
disliking  painful  subjects  but  not  sparing  his  own  feel- 
ings when  the  relation  of  a  pitiable  history  may  be  made 
an  enduring  warning  against  a  dangerous  folly ;  Vance, 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO  WITH  IT?  237 

the  artist,  who  endures  the  crushing  civility  and  conde- 
scension of  fine  lady  patrons,  and  hugs  his  reputation 
for  stinginess ;  Fairthorn,  angular  and  shambling,  so  in- 
significant out  of  his  art  and  so  glorious  in  it;  Rugge, 
the  unwittingly  comical  tragedian,  and  his  faithful  Hag ; 
these  and  others  are  minor  personages,  but  we  are  made 
to  know  and  understand  them,  and  they  have  their  part 
in  the  complications  and  circumstances  which  so  fre- 
quently provoke  the  question,  What  Will  He  Do  With 
It? 

Serjeant  Ballantine  told  Bulwer  the  story  on  which 
the  history  of  William  Losely  is  founded.  Charles  Dick- 
ens suggested  the  title  of  the  work,  which  after  appear- 
ing in  Blackwood* s  Magazine  was  published  in  1858. 


A  STRANGE  STOEY 

AWEIRD  creation,  in  whom  is  portrayed  the  com- 
ing man  of  wealth,  who  bears  to  his  present  rep- 
resentative a  similar  relation  to  that  of  the  cor- 
poration of  today  to  the  individual  tradesman  of  the 
past,  is  the  most  engrossing  personage  in  A  Strange 
Story.  Margrave  is  the  millionaire  projected  into  fu- 
turity, with  his  methods,  tendencies,  and  characteristics 
completed;  his  power  and  use  of  power  developed  from 
their  present  indications ;  and  the  result  of  the  reciprocal 
action  of  these  ultimates  of  conduct  and  faculties  upon 
himself,  realized. 

The  change  wrought  by  commercialism  upon  the  work- 
ing many,  who  have  been  transformed  by  it  from  in- 
dividual makers  of  things  into  mere  portions  of  a  vast 
machine  which  produces  in  large  quantities,  has  been  a 
fertile  theme  for  writers.  But  the  equally  far-reaching 
alteration  effected  by  the  same  agency  in  the  position 
and  potentialities  of  the  few  whom  it  enriches  has  re- 
ceived meagre  attention. 

When  wealth  was  mainly  acquired  from  the  owner- 
ship of  estates,  cities,  or  governorships,  the  possessors 
were  attached  by  duties  and  interests  to  the  sources  of 
their  revenue.  Because  life  was  varied,  active,  and  full, 
such  men  as  the  Medicis,  Sforzas,  and  Southamptons, 
though  their  vices  and  faults  often  marred  their  repu- 


A  STRANGE  STORY  239 

tations,  nevertheless  developed  in  themselves  an  exquisite 
taste  which  stimulated  others  to  produce  great  works. 
Gold  being  regarded  as  a  means,  not  an  end,  the  wealthy 
were  the  encouragers  of  scholars,  artists,  and  construc- 
tors, and  much  which  the  world  will  not  willingly  let  die 
owes  its  existence  to  their  discrimination  and  liberality. 
Under  such  fostering  care  occurred  the  simultaneous 
flourishing  of  great  artists,  who  made  brief  periods  glor- 
ious, but  were  followed  by  a  long  succession  of  medi- 
ocrities; for  grandeur  of  taste  is  necessary  to  grandeur 
of  production,  and  when  less  admirable  patrons  pre- 
ferred selfish  to  patriotic  ends,  or  serving  a  political 
party  to  refining  and  ennobling  a  people,  then  the  statue, 
the  picture,  the  play,  reverted  to  the  commonplace. 

The  education  and  early  training  of  these  men  were 
carefully  attended  to.  The  knightly  injunction  to  rev- 
erence God  and  love  the  king  was  but  part  of  a  chival- 
rous code  which  made  honorable,  kindly,  and  courteous 
conduct  habitual,  and  regarded  cowardice  and  falsehood 
as  disgraceful,  and  which,  when  instinctively  observed, 
is  the  characteristic  of  all  admirable  people,  to  whom  it 
is,  as  the  flower  to  the  plant,  the  completing  crown. 

Machiavelism  introduced  a  vitiating  but  plausible 
creed,  and  showed  apparent  advantages  in  a  policy  of 
craft,  deception,  and  hypocrisy.  No  permanent  success 
was  attained  by  those  who  adopted  and  practiced  it,  but 
the  temporary  advantage  gained  by  subordinating  the 
chivalrous  dictates  was  disquieting ;  and  the  teachings 
of  the  author  of  "The  Prince'^  have  had  an  increasing 
influence  with  each  succeeding  generation. 

Meanwhile  commercialism  has  developed  other  sources 


240  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

of  wealth ;'  and  business,  the  field  wherein  rapid  acquisi- 
tion of  riches  is  frequent,  is  one  of  the  most  attractive 
and  promising  careers,  and  therefore  popular.  But 
though  trading  can  be  conducted  without  infringement 
of  the  moral  code,  great  fortunes  cannot  be  accumulated 
in  business  where  it  is  actively  observed,  and  the  ambi- 
tious youth  finds  its  lessons  encumbrances  in  practical 
commercial  life.  He  must  unlearn  them,  or  make  a  con- 
tinuous compromise  between  his  creed  and  his  practice, 
or  not  succeed. 

For  morality  has  no  more  connection  with  business 
than  Christianity  has  with  the  multiplication  table.  The 
moral  rules  are  based  upon  the  injunction  to  ''do  unto 
others  as  ye  would  they  should  do  unto  you"  and  con- 
flict with  the  business  code  which  has  for  its  foundation 
*  *  let  the  buyer  beware. ' ' 

Rapid  success  being  irreconcilable  with  strict  and  ac- 
tive adherence  to  the  moral  code,  there  results  a  gradual 
modification  in  the  observance  of  it,  and  a  final  abandon- 
ment of  all  attempts  to  square  the  two ;  and  he  who  most 
adroitly  ignores  the  practice  of  morality  in  commercial 
dealing  appears  to  acquire  wealth  most  quickly. 

Nevertheless  the  profitable  exercise  of  such  business 
methods  is  only  possible  so  long  as  the  masses  of  mankind 
are  under  the  domination  of  morality;  for  if  unethical 
practices  were  generally  observed,  the  business  man 
would  be  the  first  to  suffer.  Meanwhile  he  has  a  similar 
advantage  to  that  formerly  enjoyed  by  the  mounted 
man-in-armor  over  the  foot  soldiers:  his  moving  de- 
stroys them,  they  are  powerless  to  injure  him. 

And  that  is  the  position  of  the  modem  man  of  wealth. 


A  STRANGE  STORY  241 

He  is  identified  with  vast  undertakings,  a  busy,  ener- 
getic person;  inclined  to  overreach  others,  intent  on 
crushing  out  competition,  and  striving  to  establish  a 
monopoly  —  recognizing  no  connection  between  excessive 
profits  and  robbery,  nor  between  adulteration  of  goods 
and  dishonesty,  nor  between  underpayment  of  wages  and 
oppression,  when  practiced  by  himself;  and  regarding 
unduly  the  value  and  quantity  of  goods  produced,  care- 
less of  the  wellbeing  of  the  producer.  But  his  personal 
interests  are  enlisted  in  his  own  undertakings,  and  with 
many  shortcomings  he  is  nevertheless  a  doer  of  great 
deeds,  a  builder  of  cities,  a  constructor  of  railroads,  a 
developer,  an  improver.  The  extension  of  his  business 
necessitates  these  things,  therefore  he  undertakes  them, 
and  success  gratifies  him,  therefore  he  completes  them. 
Unencumbered  with  sympathy  or  beneficence,  his  policy 
secures  a  reputation  for  both.  He  has  a  suspicion  that 
too  much  learning  effeminates  a  man,  so  the  education  of 
his  children  is  entrusted  to  sycophants  and  servants.  He 
has  slight  affection  for  his  home,  and  outside  his  office  he 
is  discontented  and  unhappy. 

There  is  a  different  specimen  —  one  utterly  dissociated 
from  business  activity,  the  passive  recipient  of  revenues 
from  undertakings  to  which  he  contributes  no  service. 
He  is  usually  an  ostentatious  spendthrift,  but  sometimes 
he  covets  a  position  of  importance  in  the  world  of  men, 
and  strives  to  storm  his  way  to  it  without  success ;  then 
he  subsides  into  a  position  in  polite  society,  which  opens 
to  his  golden  key. 

But  business  is  constantly  evolving  towards  larger 
possibilities,  and  the  fortunes  acquired  through  it  grow 


242  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

continually  more  colossal.  The  very  nature  of  its  mag- 
nates changes  with  the  conditions,  for  the  corporation 
ceases  to  reflect  and  express  the  thought  of  those  to 
whom  it  owed  its  existence,  and  it  constrains  them  to 
consider  its  continuance  as  the  most  important  neces- 
sity. Reversing  the  pagan  axiom,  it  becomes  necessary 
to  live,  but  not  necessary  to  live  nobly.  What  will  be 
the  character  of  the  ultimate  man  of  wealth,  reared  in 
its  code,  relieved  of  useful  participation  in  its  activities, 
aware  of  his  power,  and  living  in  accordance  with  his 
training,  his  heredity,  and  his  experiences? 

That  person  is  here  displayed. 

Margrave  is  fascinating,  for  he  has  read  curiously, 
and  travel  has  extended  his  knowledge ;  but  he  is  unap- 
preciative  of  art,  and  cares  for  science  only  in  so  far  as 
it  may  be  useful  to  him.  He  is  young,  healthy,  enjoys 
life,  can  exert  himself,  and  display  energy  in  serving  a 
friend.  But  he  is  cynically  disdainful  of  what  is  right 
andj  just,  has  no  veneration  for  what  is  good  and  great, 
and  is  without  compassion.  Animal  life,  no  matter  how 
innocent,  is  ruthlessly  destroyed  if  it  cause  him  pain, 
and  the  cry  of  a  hurt  child  awakens  no  sympathy.  He 
considers  only  his  own  welfare.  All  his  faculties  are  di- 
rected to  self-preservation,  and  whatever  opposes  or 
threatens  his  enjoyment  arouses  his  hostility  and  is 
crushed,  not  by  his  direct  act,  but  by  others  whom  he 
constrains  to  do  his  will.  He  is  dangerous,  for  he  pos- 
sesses powers  by  means  of  which  he  can  control  others, 
effect  desires  by  the  exercise  of  his  will,  and  influence  the 
minds  of  people  at  a  distance.  Ordinary  means  are  fu- 
tile when  opposed  to  his  designs,  and  only  the  outraged 


A  STRANGE  STORY  243 

man,  who  dares  to  act  in  ways  not  countenanced  by  so- 
ciety, can  partially  thwart  his  projects. 

This  portentous  being,  attracted  by  certain  bold  spec- 
ulation in  a  recently  published  work,  makes  the  acquaint- 
ance of  its  author,  Allan  Fenwick,  an  ardent  scientist, 
and  solicits  his  aid  in  certain  investigations  vital  to  him- 
self, but  seeming  chimerical  to  the  doctor,  who  declines 
the  offer  made  for  his  services,  but  is  willing  to  test 
gratuitously  the  discoveries  he  regards  as  childish.  Cir- 
cumstances arise  which  steel  Fenwick 's  mind  against 
Margrave,  who  then  strives  to  gain  his  assistance  by  in- 
fluencing him  through  the  woman  to  whom  he  is  be- 
trothed. His  success  in  this  is  not  complete,  but  his 
machinations  cause  a  serious  impairment  of  Lilian's 
health,  and  Fenwick,  soon  after  their  marriage,  believ- 
ing that  change  of  scene  may  be  beneficial  to  her,  leaves 
England  and  establishes  a  new  home  in  Australia. 

Margrave  endeavors  to  find  elsewhere  the  assistance 
he  needs,  but  vainly ;  and  after  many  attempts,  in  which 
his  health  becomes  broken,  he  betakes  himself  to  the 
present  home  of  Fenwick.  As  a  patient  he  gains  the  end 
he  failed  to  buy  as  a  patron,  and  the  experiment  is  un- 
dertaken. Just  when  the  last  process  in  their  task  is 
nearing  completion,  a  stampede  of  animals  overthrows 
their  instruments,  wastes  the  results,  and  tramples  Mar- 
grave to  death. 

Darkly  impressive  and  soulless  as  Margrave  appears, 
he  is  always  the  master-piece  of  living  things,  his  wil- 
fullness  never  chills  our  interest,  his  joy  in  the  merely 
natural  life  has  something  of  infection  in  it,  and  pity 
mingles  with  the  awe  aroused  by  his  fate,  when  Ayesha 


244  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

and  her  spectre-like  attendant  —  Nature  and  her  servant 
Death  —  gather  him  under  the  veil. 

The  marvelous  vanishes  from  A  Strange  Story  when 
its  magic  agencies  are  translated  into  terms  associated 
with  wealth.  A  business  man  whose  prosperity  is  de- 
clining seeks  to  combine  a  less  pretentious  but  more 
solid  undertaking  with  his  own.  His  unscrupulous 
methods  are  objected  to  and  his  overtures  are  declined. 
An  employe  of  intimate  and  lengthy  service  is  deputed 
to  effect  what  the  master  had  failed  to  accomplish,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  an  attendant  —  a  fawning,  supple, 
insinuating  and  entangling  person  —  in  other  words  an 
attorney  —  the  business  of  this  competitor  is  destroyed, 
his  trade  annexed,  and  a  new  corporation  formed  by 
joining  the  two,  the  successful  trader  controlling  the 
stock  and  receiving  the  profits. 

Henceforth  he  is  a  dual  personage :  himself,  and  that 
cold,  bloodless  emanation,  the  corporation,  which  is  in- 
formed of  his  purposes  and  executes  them,  which  may 
be  questioned  and  make  replies  without  his  knowledge, 
and  which  acts  in  his  interest  at  all  times,  irrespective 
of  his  presence  or  absence. 

The  scene  in  the  museum  represents  the  transition 
from  individual  to  corporation,  as  instanced  in  the 
change  from  Grayle  to  Margrave,  and  indicates  the  ac- 
companying alteration  in  character.  A  corporation  be- 
ing without  beneficence  and  sympathy,  he  who  is  inti- 
mately allied  with  it  acquires  its  selfish  disregard  for 
everything  but  permanence  and  success.  Continued  life 
and  enjoyment  become  the  sum  of  his  desires. 

The  wand  is  the  authority  of  office  which  may  be  reft 


A  STRANGE  STORY  245 

from  the  master  without  serious  impairment  of  his  in- 
terest, though  it  may  transfer  a  little  additional  power 
to  another.  The  ability  to  influence  other  minds  results 
from  the  control  of  newspapers.  Working  through 
agents  is  effected  by  requiring  certain  services  from  rep- 
resentatives and  employees.  Baffling  justice  and  putting 
the  officers  of  the  law  to  sleep  are  common  practices  with 
large  corporations. 

The  loss  of  vigor  resulting  from  the  unsuccessful  at- 
tempt to  secure  the  property  of  the  dervish  has  its  par- 
allel in  capital  squandered  in  the  vain  effort  to  crush  a 
rival  and  appropriate  his  business. 

To  replenish  the  wealth  thus  depleted,  a  quicker  meth- 
od than  the  slow  production  of  gold  is  conceived,  some- 
thing of  vaster  promise,  more  rapid  in  its  effects,  requir- 
ing for  its  elaboration  the  aid  of  unselfish  fidelity  and 
loyal  daring.  Which  means  that  a  new  and  imposing  en- 
terprise is  inaugurated,  in  the  formation  of  which  the 
promoter  enlists  the  services  of  two  classes,  one  having 
familiarity  with  methods,  to  carry  out  his  plans;  the 
other  possessing  that  combination  of  honor,  integrity, 
and  courage,  which  we  call  character,  to  disarm  sus- 
picion. 

The  formation  of  a  monopoly  arouses  hostility  on 
every  hand,  and  though  the  investigations  of  great  rivals 
may  be  ineffective,  and  their  interference  be  stayed  by 
the  confronting  of  unimpeachable  character,  fidelity  ex- 
hausts its  influence  vainly  against  the  general  public. 
The  many,  perhaps  abetted  by  a  rival,  overthrow  the 
scheme,  prevent  the  acquisition  of  gain,  and  crush  the 
promoters. 


246  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

To  reduce  poetry  to  commonplace  in  this  fashion 
would  work  havoc  with  any  romance  in  which  the  inter- 
est depended  upon  the  narrative  only.  But  Margrave 
is  the  cause  of  numerous  ingenious  and  suggestive 
guesses  at  riddles  in  nature  and  speculations  on  man  and 
his  future,  and  it  was  because  these  themes  are  grave 
and  serious  that  a  wondrous  story  was  chosen  for  their 
enunciation.  They  are  but  guesses,  for  thinking  is  a 
process  of  comparisons,  and  where  man  cannot  compare 
he  cannot  successfully  reason.  Just  as  we  can  speculate 
and  conjecture  about  the  ether  of  space  but  cannot  think 
about  it,  so  the  soul  and  immortality  elude  our  reason- 
ing because  we  have  nothing  with  which  to  satisfactorily 
compare  them.  We  can  only  infer,  suggestively  argue, 
and  guess. 

And  this  method  is  followed  in  carrying  out  another 
and  higher  purpose  of  A  Strange  Story.  Since  nature 
gives  no  species  instincts  or  impulses  which  are  not  of 
service  to  it,  and  man  alone  has  the  inherent  capacity  to 
receive  the  ideas  of  deity,  soul,  immortality;  since  his 
ability  to  comprehend  these  ideas  and  believe  in  them 
leads  to  that  continued  improvement  which  makes  the 
difference  between  man  and  the  beaver,  the  bee,  the  ant ;  it 
is  contended  that  beside  the  physical  and  mental  there  is 
another  life  stored  in  man,  and  that  we  cannot  by  any 
known  laws  of  mind  or  matter  solve  the  riddles  we  meet 
in  both,  unless  we  admit  the  principle  of  soul. 

Allan  Fenwick  is  a  vigorous  and  disciplined  investi- 
gator, with  the  training  of  a  physician  and  the  learning 
of  a  professor.  He  is  a  rigid  materialist,  setting  a  high 
value  on  common  sense,  requiring  absolute  precision  in 


A  STRANGE  STORY  247 

that  which  calls  itself  science,  intolerant  of  any  conces- 
sion to  sentiment,  and  contemptuous  of  the  credulous. 
He  has  won  some  reputation  by  an  essay  on  ''Vital 
Force, ' '  and  is  engaged  upon  a  more  ambitious  work  in 
which  he  has  exhaustively  treated  of  man  and  his  fac- 
ulties, assigning  to  every  power  a  physical  origin,  and 
circumbscribing  all  man's  interests  to  the  life  that  has 
its  close  in  the  grave;  mind  being  born  from  and  nur- 
tured by  the  material  senses,  acting  through  and  per- 
ishing with  the  machine  those  senses  moved,  and  soul 
being  ignored  as  an  unprovable  superfluity. 

It  is  one  of  the  phenomena  of  our  organization,  that 
if  we  rivet  prolonged  attention  on  any  part  of  the  frame, 
an  exhibition  of  morbid  sensibility  will  be  caused  there. 
Even  while  penning  the  arguments  by  which  he  sup- 
ports this  limited  view  of  man,  Fenwick's  own  feelings 
suggest  a  doubt  of  their  soundness,  for  he  has  become 
engaged  to  Lilian  Ashleigh,  and  in  his  affection  there  is 
a  desire  for  the  eternal  which  his  theories  deny.  And 
while  brooding  over  his  conception  of  man  as  a  sensuous, 
soulless  being,  he  is  brought  into  contact  with  Margrave, 
young,  full  of  life,  with  eccentric  notions  and  vivacious 
egotism,  who  does  not  believe  in  soul,  and  acts  and  thinks 
as  if  he  had  none  —  the  very  embodiment  of  his  own 
theory. 

His  intercourse  with  Margrave  perplexes  and  humbles 
Fenwick,  for  continually  his  reason  and  his  senses  con- 
flict. What  he  sees  and  hears  impresses  him  as  super- 
natural and  therefore  obnoxious  to  common  sense,  and 
the  material  explanations  by  which  his  experiences  are 
resolvable  fail  to  satisfy.     He  is  harassed  by  the  per- 


248  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

petual  struggle  of  antagonistic  impressions.  Believing 
that  all  man's  knowledge  comes  from  the  senses,  he 
finds  that  the  senses  can  delude  and  cheat.  Thus  he  is 
constrained  to  doubt  the  reliability  of  the  very  founda- 
tions of  his  belief. 

Meanwhile  his  projects  are  arrested,  and  his  life  sad- 
dened by  the  failing  health  of  his  wife,  which  neither 
change  of  scene  nor  constant  care  avail  to  benefit. 
In  a  desperate  effort  to  win  renewed  vigor  for  her, 
Fenwick  agrees  to  assist  Margrave  in  a  task  which 
that  enigmatical  creature  is  confident  will  secure  a  re- 
storing elixir.  The  experiment  fails,  and  all  hope  seems 
gone ;  for  what  can  comfort  the  survivor  if  the  dead  die 
forever  ?  Suddenly  Fenwick  recalls  that  man  alone  asks 
"do  the  dead  die  forever,"  that  nature  gives  no  instinct 
in  vain,  and  that  the  very  question  prompted  by  that  in- 
stinct disposes  of  the  doubt. 

It  is  not  by  the  terrors  of  the  forces  roused  by  Mar- 
grave that  Fenwick  is  brought  to  a  belief  which  the  one 
he  had  set  forth  in  his  book  contradicted  and  denied; 
nor  by  the  wisdom  of  sages,  though  the  wise  Faber  ad- 
duces arguments  from  the  works  of  a  wide  range  of 
philosophers,  and  from  his  own  experiences  and  cogita- 
tions ;  but  by  the  sorrow,  affection,  and  hope  common  to 
all  mankind.  It  is  a  realization  of  the  unavailing  fu- 
tility of  all  comfort  if  love  is  not  eternal  which  brings 
Fenwick  to  a  belief  in  a  hereafter,  and  humbles  him  into 
a  suppliant  acknowledgment  of  a  benignant  and  tender 
providence.  The  affection  and  hope  of  all  who  livei  and 
love  is  the  justification  of  the  belief  in  immortality. 

Lilian  Ashleigh  is  one  in  whom  imagination  is  over- 


A  STRANGE  STORY  249 

stimulated,  and  reasoning  neglected.  She  is  therefore 
the  antithesis  of  Fenwick,  mystical  where  he  is  material. 
The  two  have  need  of  each  other,  for  in  neither  is  there 
that  wholesomeness  of  mind  which  accompanies  the  har- 
monius  development  of  the  whole.  His  suppression  of 
imagination  produces  perplexity  and  necessitates  the 
abandonment  of  his  profession.  Her  abstraction  from 
the  world  and  indulgence  in  reverie  lead  to  phantasy  and 
the  clouding  of  mind.  But  in  the  ideas  of  visionaries 
are  the  germs  of  possibilities  which  subjected  to  practical 
experiment  develop  into  vast  potentialities;  and  there- 
fore Margrave  recognizes  in  her  a  power  which  he  seeks 
to  control  and  direct  solely  to  his  own  advantage.  Fi- 
nally by  sorrow  Lilian  is  taught  that  it  is  in  this  world 
that  mortals  must  pass  through  that  probation  which  fits 
them  for  the  world  of  angels. 

The  matter-of-fact  coterie  of  the  Abbey  Hill,  with  its 
Mrs.  Colonel  Poyntz,  who  by  a  woman's  ways  made  her 
will  supreme  and  gained  the  ends  she  schemed  for,  is 
the  nearest  approach  to  realism  that  Bulwer  ever  per- 
mitted himself  to  make.  Its  introduction  serves  to  at- 
tach to  the  waking  world  characters  and  incidents  other- 
wise more  appropriate  to  dreamland. 

Every  marvel  in  A  Strange  Story  has  its  warrant  in 
the  writings  of  mystics,  but  the  art  with  which  they  are 
here  brought  together  and  made  to  serve  other  purposes 
beside  furnishing  a  fascinating  narrative  and  the  skill 
with  which  mental  perplexities  are  substituted  for  con- 
tending passions  and  made  to  afford  sustained  and  en- 
grossing interest  are  alike  unique. 

A  Strange  Story  was  first  published  in  All  the  Year 


\ 


250  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Round.  A  novel  called  A  Day's  Ride,  contributed  by 
Charles  Lever,  failing  to  attract  the  readers,  was  hur- 
ried to  a  conclusion  and  Dickens  applied  to  Bulwer  for 
a  romance  for  that  periodical.  This  story,  woven  out 
of  a  dream  that  he  had  dreamed,  was  altered  by  its  au- 
thor to  conform  to  the  serial  form  of  publication,  and 
began  in  August,  1861.  Concerning  it  Dickens  wrote: 
*  *  The  exquisite  art  with  which  you  have  changed  it  and 
have  overcome  the  difficulties  of  the  mode  of  publication 
has  fairly  staggered  me.  I  know  pretty  well  what  the 
difficulties  are;  and  there  is  no  other  man  who  could 
have  done  it,  I  ween.'' 


THE  COMING  EACE 

THE  COMING  RACE,  Kenelm  Chillingly,  and  The 
Parisians  are  definitely  related  to  each  other  in 
subject.  Each  deals  with  the  views,  theories,  and 
movements  contemporaneously  advanced  and  advocated 
on  such  questions  as  the  position  of  woman,  marriage,  re- 
ligion, social  organization,  and  government;  but  in  the 
manner  of  treatment  and  presentation  they  differ  entire- 
ly. The  Parisians  depicts  the  ferment  of  these  new  ideas 
in  a  community  disposed  to  encourage  them.  Kenelm 
Chillingly  shows  the  dis-harmony  resulting  when  an  in- 
dividual endeavors  to  reconcile  them  with  the  facts  and 
habits  of  life,  and  The  Coming  Race,  in  the  guise  of  a  de- 
scription of  a  subterranean  people  of  comparatively  per- 
fect civilization,  pictures  society  as  it  would  be  were  the 
dreams  of  the  philosophers  and  reformers  realized. 

Utopias,  where  ingeniously  devised  plans  of  organiza- 
tion have  changed  the  social  and  administrative  arrange- 
ments in  directions  deemed  advantageous  by  their  dis- 
coverers, have  often  been  described.  In  all  of  these,  al- 
though a  far-off  country  or  island  is  selected  for  the 
new  experiment,  the  ordinary  natural  conditions  are 
predicated,  and  man  remains  essentially  the  same  as  we 
know  him. 

In  The  Coming  Race  another  conception  is  worked  out. 
Man  has  advanced  and  his  surroundings  are  different. 


252  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

The  potent  sun,  the  changing  seasons,  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  the  great  seas,  and  the  energies  and  raptures  they  in- 
spire are  unknown,  unknown,  too,  the  powerful  influence 
exerted  by  these  on  the  character  and  life  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  earth.  There  science  and  skill  have  surmount- 
ed unfavorable  conditions,  and  a  controlled,  orderly,  and 
effectual  mastery  of  temperature  and  soil  contrast  our 
dependence  upon  and  subjection  to  the  crude  and  violent 
phenomena  of  sunshine,  rain,  wind,  and  tempest.  They 
have  modified  whatever  was  harsh,  and  annihilated  all 
that  was  irksome.  Mechanical  inventions  have  dispensed 
with  the  necessity  for  toil,  and  centuries  of  culture  have 
crystallized  serenity,  contentment,  and  satisfaction  into 
habits,  and  developed  potentialities  continually  extend- 
ing. 

The  story  begins  with  a  plausible  incident.  A  mining 
engineer  and  an  American  acquaintance  resolve  to  in- 
vestigate the  recesses  of  a  jagged  chasm,  which  has  been 
revealed  in  piercing  a  new  shaft  in  a  deep  mine.  They 
make  careful  preparations  for  their  descent  and  return, 
but  the  venture  is  disastrous  and  the  American  finds 
himself  without  means  of  escape,  alone  in  a  region  which 
is  brilliantly  illuminated  and  evidently  inhabited,  for 
there  are  fields  covered  with  a  strange  vegetation,  and 
he  hears  the  hum  of  voices,  and  sees  buildings  which 
must  have  been  made  by  hand.  Cautiously  he  advances 
along  the  lighted  road  toward  a  structure  which  has  at- 
tracted his  attention,  from  which  emerges  a  form  differ- 
ing from  all  hitherto  seen,  in  dress,  height,  and  calmness 
of  expression.  This  figure  approaches  and  accosts  him 
in  an  unknown  tongue,  his  replies  to  which  are  not  un- 


THE  COMING  RACE  253 

derstood.  He  is  led  into  the  building,  and  by  means  of 
signs  and  sketches  on  the  leaves  of  his  pocket-book  he 
accounts  for  his  presence  among  them  and  shows  how 
he  came  there.  Conducted  to  a  home  of  great  mag- 
nificence, he  is  entertained  as  a  guest,  meets  other  in- 
dividuals of  this  singular  race,  learns  much  about  their 
habits,  attainments,  and  way  of  life,  and  his  explanations 
and  descriptions  of  these  are  the  substance  of  the  book. 

The  Vril-ya,  as  the  people  of  this  region  are  called, 
are  stronger  of  form,  grander  of  aspect,  taller,  longer 
lived,  and  more  immune  against  sickness  than  we  are, 
and  the  women  surpass  the  men  in  height,  strength,  and 
intellectual  power.  Their  scientific  attainments,  their 
inventions  and  mastery  of  methods,  have  enabled  them 
not  only  to  ensure  full  productivity  from  their  fields, 
but  also  to  diffuse  wide  culture  among  all,  supplemented 
by  the  financial  independence  of  each.  There  is  no  right 
or  duty  from  which  either  sex  is  excluded,  and  absolute 
equality  prevails.  Industry  is  concentrated  upon  agri- 
cultural production,  manufacturing,  and  constructing. 
The  lawyer  has  no  existence,  and  the  trader  is  an  un- 
important factor.  The  mischievous  and  unnecessary 
thus  eliminated,  organization  is  simplified,  and  effective- 
ness increased.  Poverty  is  impossible  and  crime  un- 
known, and  there  are  no  incentives  to  cupidity  and  am- 
bition. Fame  is  not  desired,  great  wealth  is  a  disad- 
vantage, and  heroic  excellence  is  not  striven  for,  but  the 
moral  standard  universally  attained  is  high,  and  exquis- 
ite politeness,  generosity  of  sentiment,  and  abundant 
leisure  are  general  characteristics. 

This  felicitous  state  of  existence  is  the  result  of  con- 


254  PEOSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

tinued  effort  in  the  direction  of  general  well-being,  per- 
sisted in  for  ages.  Their  wrangling  period  of  history, 
which  approximates  to  our  present,  ended  some  seven 
thousand  years  ago. 

The  Vril-ya  define  civilization  as  ' '  the  art  of  diffusing 
throughout  a  community  the  tranquil  happiness  which 
belongs  to  a  virtuous  and  well-ordered  household.*'  In 
the  government  which  is  the  agency  for  securing  this 
end  they  dispense  with  argumentative  assemblies,  have 
departments  which  administer  the  several  services,  and 
unite  all  under  one  head,  the  ' '  Tur, ' '  whose  requests  are 
implicitly  obeyed.  Such  substitute  for  labor  as  the  at- 
tention and  supervision  of  machinery  entails  is  per- 
formed by  the  young  of  both  sexes,  who  are  paid  by  the 
state  so  amply  that  each  has  earned  a  competence  before 
arriving  at  maturity.  The  size  of  the  community  is  lim- 
ited to  the  number  which  its  territory  can  adequately 
maintain,  and  their  surplus  population  voluntarily  emi- 
grates to  other  districts,  which  are  prepared  for  occupa- 
tion beforehand. 

They  have  perfected  aviation,  and  in  addition  all  use 
mechanical  wings.  These  and  their  many  other  achieve- 
ments have  been  made  possible  by  the  discovery,  devel- 
opment, and  application  to  an  endless  variety  of  uses,  of 
a  force  mightier  than  electricity,  called  Vril.  This  is 
their  source  of  light,  and  the  motive  power  of  their  tools, 
machinery,  and  automata.  It  can  be  directed  to  destruc- 
tive purposes,  aad  also  to  the  invigorating  of  life.  Every 
person  carries  a  slender  staff  in  which  is  enclosed  a  de- 
vice for  impelling  this  fluid  to  the  desired  purpose,  and 
constitutional   peculiarities,   transmitted  and  strength- 


THE  COMING  RACE  255 

ened  through  generations,  enable  the  Vril-ya  to  handle 
this  instrument  with  ease  and  certainty. 

Religion  has  been  pruned  of  both  dogma  and  ceremony 
by  the  adoption  of  a  creed  with  an  apprehensible  form- 
ula, and  the  simplifying  of  worship  into  a  brief  devout 
observance  free  from  pomp.  They  believe  that  there  is 
a  Divine  being  and  a  future  state,  but  it  is  impossible 
for  finite  humanity  to  quicken  our  comprehension  of  the 
attributes  and  essence  of  the  one,  or  throw  any  light 
upon  the  other.  Therefore  there  is  no  discussion  or  ar- 
gument on  the  subject.  Their  devotional  services  are 
short,  because  earnest  abstraction  from  the  actual  world, 
if  long  continued,  is  not  beneficial.  And  they  consider 
that  life  once  given,  even  to  a  plant,  never  perishes,  but 
constantly  advances  in  an  infinite  progression. 

Woman's  happiness  is  more  dependent  upon  affection 
than  man's,  therefore  it  is  her  privilege  to  choose,  woo, 
and  win  the  partner  she  selects  as  husband.  Marriages 
are  made  for  three  years,  and  being  thus  terminable, 
each  makes  such  effort  to  deserve  the  other  that  their 
unions  are  singularly  happy  and  usually  last  for  life. 

Research  and  improvement  of  machinery  and  plants 
are  the  objects  to  which  their  thoughtful  attention  is 
assiduously  devoted.  The  methods  and  resources  of  art 
are  utilized  so  far  as  they  serve  the  purposes  of  science, 
but  their  modem  pictures  and  plays  are  meagre  in  quan- 
tity and  inferior  in  quality  to  those  produced  in  a  re- 
mote past,  and  their  last  poet  was  regarded  as  a  person 
of  unsound  mind  and  maintained  at  the  public  expense. 
Works  of  imagination  have  lost  all  attraction,  and  they 
have  no  contemporaneous  literature  such  as  ours. 


256  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Though,  this  race  is  so  superior  in  accomplishments  to 
all  with  whom  experience  or  reading  has  acquainted  us, 
it  is  nevertheless  but  an  advanced  variant  of  our  own, 
and  the  natural  law  which  impels  towards  the  normal  in 
the  perpetuating  of  the  species,  which  causes  desire  for 
what  we  lack  rather  than  for  that  which  is  best,  asserts 
itself  with  them  as  with  us,  and  affection  for  the  Amer- 
ican stranger  is  awakened  in  the  grandest,  wisest,  and 
strongest  of  the  Gyei,  and  this  brings  peril  to  him.  From 
the  danger  thus  incurred  Zee  saves  the  man  who  cannot 
return  her  love,  by  reopening  the  chasm,  and  bearing 
him  aloft  to  the  mine  workings  from  which  he  had  de- 
scended to  the  land  of  the  Yril-ya,  and  then  sorrowfully 
returns  to  her  own  people. 

In  describing  the  practical  operation  of  the  system 
under  which  the  highest  form  of  civilization  yet  con- 
ceived by  man  flourishes  and  provides  serenity,  happi- 
ness, and  freedom  from  anxiety,  it  is  pointed  out  that 
some  institutions  have  become  extinct  among  the  Vril- 
ya  in  the  gradual  progress  to  their  present  exalted  con- 
dition; and  thereby  the  necessary  processes  for  accom- 
plishing a  similar  improvement  are  suggested.  These 
institutions  are  so  strongly  entrenched  and  exercise  such 
power  among  us  at  present,  that  it  is  wisely  intimated 
that  thousands  of  years  elapsed  before  the  Vril-ya  ef- 
fected their  removal. 

The  perfect  State  as  outlined  by  philosophei*s  will  be 
one  in  which  poverty  and  crime  have  been  eliminated, 
labor  minimized,  and  culture  and  well-being  universally 
diffused. 

These  conditions  are  realized  in  The  Coming  Race, 


THE  COMING  RACE  257 

and  it  is  shown  that  as  a  necessary  accompaniment  many- 
other  things  must  be  dispensed  with. 

Crime,  poverty,  punishment,  disputation,  theology, 
and  war  have  been  relegated  to  the  realm  of  things  that 
Were ;  and  with  them  fame,  rewards,  art,  literature,  and 
wealth  have  gone ;  for  they  had  the  same  origin,  and  the 
existence  of  the  one  series  is  a  consequence  of  the  flour- 
ishing of  the  other.  But  multitudes  of  terrestrial  peo- 
ples would  hesitate  to  give  up  these,  even  though  the 
sacrifice  secured  general  immunity  from  the  others. 

The  contrast  between  the  Vril-ya  and  our  modern 
state  is  always  significant.  They  have  no  vocation  for 
the  lawyer,  the  trader,  the  priest,  the  poet,  the  painter; 
for  science  is  supreme,  and  imagination  is  suppressed. 
The  energies  of  all  are  turned  into  serviceable  channels, 
and  the  tribute  these  classes  would  exact  from  the  com- 
munity is  saved,  and  thus  a  competence  is  secured  for 
each,  and  in  its  train  other  important  boons.  "We  per- 
petually increase  the  number  of  persons  following  these 
callings,  and  enlarge  the  varieties  of  each. 

They  have  discarded,  as  ignoble  and  demoralizing,  re- 
wards and  punishments,  competition,  and  vying  for  su- 
periority. We  regard  these  as  the  necessary  and  de- 
sirable aids  to  progress  and  government. 

With  them  the  sexes  are  absolutely  equal,  but  it  is  evi- 
dent from  their  superior  development  that  the  Gyei  first 
raised  themselves  to  man's  level  by  a  continued  cultiva- 
tion of  their  intellectual  faculties,  physical  powers,  nat- 
ural qualities  of  affection,  amiability,  and  gentleness. 
Our  women  dislike  study,  abjure  self -improvement,  and 
find  attraction  only  in  frivolity. 


258  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

They  have  simplified  organization  and  reduced  gov- 
ernmental functions,  to  light  duties  easily  discharged  by 
one  man,  who  keeps  in  constant  communication  with  the 
several  services  or  departments.  We  add  to  the  cost  and 
complexities  of  administration,  increase  the  number  of 
officials,  permit  a  steady  usurpation  of  power  by  the  gov- 
erning class,  and  accord  the  ultimate  decision  on  mat- 
ters of  importance  to  the  brute  force  embodied  in  a  ma- 
jority. 

The  habits,  thought,  and  aims  of  the  Yril-ya  comply 
with  what  sages  have  dreamed  as  the  results  of  civ- 
ilization carried  to  its  ultimate.  Intelligence,  goodness, 
and  ability  are  developed  in  all.  There  is  no  salient 
difference  in  virtue  or  attainments  distinguishing  one 
above  another,  and  they  have  abundant  leisure  and  re- 
pose. Our  philosophers  would  shrink  from  a  lengthened 
experience  of  that  equable,  serene  existence,  and  as  a 
boy  in  the  company  of  elderly  people  feels  constrained 
and  longs  for  the  playground,  so  would  they  yearn  for  a 
return  to  something  less  dull  and  unexciting;  for  the 
Vril-ya  are  mature,  we  but  as  boys. 

Yet  boyhood  is  teachable,  and  may  be  disciplined  into 
a  desired  consummation.  For  that  object  it  is  needful 
that  the  end  be  not  only  kept  in  sight,  but  steadily  ap- 
proached. A  rower  may  admire  a  noble  view  and  wist- 
fully exult  in  its  beauty,  while  every  stroke  of  his  oars 
bears  him  farther  away  from  it.  If  he  would  advance 
toward  the  prospect  which  pleases  him,  he  must  alter 
the  direction  of  his  boat.  The  attitude  of  mankind  to- 
ward improvements  in  social  arrangements  is  one  of  ap- 
proval and  desire,  unaccompanied  by  any  effort  for  at- 


THE  COMING  RACE  259 

tainment.  Indeed,  general  activities  and  developments 
are  in  the  contrary  direction. 

In  The  Coming  Race  the  general  use  of  electricity 
for  power  and  illuminating  purposes  was  anticipated,  for 
the  arc-light,  which  preceded  the  incandescent  lamp,  did 
not  appear  in  London  until  June,  1878.  The  telephone, 
to  some  extent  an  equivalent  of  contrivances  common 
among  the  Vril-ya,  was  not  invented  until  1876,  and 
aerial  vehicles  '^  resembling  our  boats,  with  helm,  rud- 
der, large  mngs  as  paddles,  and  a  central  machine 
worked  by  Vril, ' '  were  not  imitated  until  after  the  close 
of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  book  was  published  anonymously  by  Blackwoods 
in  1871,  and  its  authorship  remained  undiscovered  until 
Bulwer's  death;  yet  the  first  paragraph  of  the  thirteenth 
chapter  indicates  clearly  to  anyone  familiar  with  A 
Strange  Story  that  the  same  writer  produced  both 
works. 


EXCURSUS 

That  the  golden  age  is  before,  not  behind  us,  a  re- 
versal of  the  ancient  teaching  which  Jackson  of  Ex- 
eter was  the  first  to  advance,  is  the  view  of  the  au- 
thor of  The  Coming  Race,  and  in  elaborating  his  con- 
ception of  what  human  societies  such  as  now  exist  may 
under  thoughtful  guidance  develop  into,  he  shows  some 
startling  departures  from  our  present  institutions  and 
practices,  and  describes  a  singular  form  of  government 
operating  through  departments  of  service  in  constant 
communication  with  the  head  of  the  state. 

In  the  community  which  Bulwer  describes,  financial 
independence  is  assured  to  every  one  and  poverty  is  an 
impossible  condition.  The  several  departments  of  art 
have  become  pastime  hobbies,  the  vocations  of  the  priest, 
lawyer,  and  trader  have  been  abolished  and  the  ma- 
chinery of  government  is  of  the  simplest  kind.  The 
people  have  elaborate  culture,  abundant  possessions, 
ample  leisure,  and  enviable  comforts,  their  wellbeing  is 
provided  for  and  their  capacity  for  improvement  safe- 
guarded, for  no  deteriorating  adulteration  of  the  race  is 
permitted. 

These  attainments  are  the  result  of  the  institution  of 
a  system  of  government  which  fulfils  its  purpose  and 
gives  satisfaction,  but  as  a  preliminary  to  its  adoption 
the  people  gradually  fitted  themselves  for  it.     The  ex- 


'  EXCURSUS    .  261 

altation  of  the  race  preceded  the  improvement  in  con- 
ditions. 

The  important  characteristic  of  this  system  is  that  it 
is  based  upon  service  and  is  scientific,  just  and  simple. 
In  these  respects  it  greatly  excels  all  existing  institu- 
tions and  the  advisability  of  adopting  some  similar  ar- 
rangement is  worth  consideration. 

The  change  from  a  complex  to  a  simple  f onn  of  govern- 
ment, however  desirable,  must  be  a  gradual  and  slow 
proceeding,  and  there  is  no  country  in  which  the  present 
trend  is  not  toward  further  multiplication  of  offices  and 
departments.  This  is  consequent  upon  all  governments 
allowing  an  alliance  of  certain  classes  to  be  in  the  ma- 
jority, and  therefore  able  to  increase  their  own  power 
and  secure  their  interests  without  regard  to  the  common 
good.  The  composition  of  all  administrative  bodies  fa- 
vors this  alliance  and  causes  these  abuses,  and  proposals 
for  ameliorating  conditions  rarely  extend  beyond  plans 
for  securing  a  better  representation  of  minorities  which 
would  increase  the  number  of  opinions  obtaining  ad- 
vocacy, without  effecting  any  transforming  benefit. 

By  appljdng  the  principle  of  services  and  arranging 
for  the  representation  of  each  and  all  of  these,  a  vast  and 
far-reaching  improvement  would  be  wrought.  Impar- 
tial and  united  efforts  for  the  common  good  would  be 
facilitated  and  in  the  course  of  time  become  effective. 

Representation  on  the  principle  of  service  means  the 
election  by  each  class  in  the  commonwealth  of  members 
of  that  class  to  serve  as  its  representatives. 

A  civilized  community  is  composed  of  definite  classes, 
just  as  distinctly  as  are  species  of  animals  and  plants. 


262  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

There  is  the  Producer  instanced  by  the  farmer;  the 
Manufacturer  or  transformer  who  takes  one  product  and 
fabricates  it  into  another,  as  the  weaver  with  wool,  or 
the  miller  with  wheat ;  the  Constructor  who  makes  ships, 
machines,  roads,  furniture,  or  houses;  the  Transporter 
who  moves  things  from  one  district  or  place  to  another 
by  road,  rail,  or  water;  the  Trader  who  facilitates  the 
exchange  of  commodities  or  money,  and  who  may  be 
shopkeeper,  stockbroker,  or  banker;  the  Trainer  who  is 
schoolmaster,  physician,  professor,  or  preacher;  the 
Warder  comprising  the  soldier,  the  policeman,  the  of- 
ficers of  courts,  and  judges;  the  Director,  the  ministers 
and  administrative  agents  of  governments.  Another 
class  not  recognized  in  The  Coming  Race  but  existing 
and  flourishing  with  us  is  the  Amusers,  writers,  players, 
artists,  and  the  like. 

The  usual  formula  for  securing  representation  in  the 
government  prescribes  that  the  voters  residing  in  a  given 
district  shall  elect  a  member  to  serve  their  interest  in 
the  legislature.  This  is  unscientific  and  its  results  are 
unsatisfactory,  for  the  trader  and  the  lawyer  secure  an 
excessive  representation  and  more  useful  classes  receive 
none.  In  accordance  with  the  principle  of  service,  the 
method  would  be  to  instruct  a  given  number  of  producers 
to  send  one  of  themselves,  a  like  number  of  constructors 
to  do  the  same,  and  so  with  all.  Let  each  be  represented 
in  due  proportion  to  its  numerical  importance  by  mem- 
bers of  its  own  class,  for  none  can  have  such  complete 
and  intimate  acquaintance  with  its  requirements.  And 
instead  of  having  numerous  elections  in  limited  areas, 
register  the  several  members  of  each  class,  apportion  the 


EXCURSUS  263 

proper  number  of  representatives  to  which  it  is  entitled, 
allow  every  member  of  the  class  to  vote  for  the  full  num- 
ber and  declare  those  who  receive  the  most  votes  the 
elected  members.  The  larger  area  would  ensure  the 
choice  of  the  most  able:  and  thus  the  representation  of 
classes  which  are  enduring  would  supplant  that  of  opin- 
ions which  are  fleeting.  The  monopoly  of  power  by  any 
one  class  would  be  prevented,  and  the  most  mischievous 
element  in  all  governments  —  the  lawyer  —  reduced  to 
his  proper  position  as  a  member  of  a  mere  subclass  would 
be  deprived  of  much  of  his  power  to  harm. 

The  abolition  of  the  callings  of  the  priest,  the  lawyer, 
and  the  trader  is  a  startling  proposition,  for  we  are  ac- 
customed to  regard  these  as  not  only  necessary  but  de- 
sirable, and  each  is  supposed  to  discharge  a  useful  ser- 
vice. Admitting  this,  it  is  yet  possible  that  more  satis- 
factory arrangements  could  be  devised.  Nothing  ever  is 
attempted  with  a  view  to  a  more  economical  or  better  ex- 
ecution of  their  functions.  It  is  assumed  that  they  must 
continue  as  now  although  each  is  overdone  in  the  matter 
of  numbers,  faulty  in  the  discharge  of  service,  and  ex- 
tortionate in  the  emoluments  exacted  as  remuneration. 
With  the  object  of  diffusing  general  well-being  through- 
out a  community,  the  classes  which  live  upon  others  must 
be  diminished  both  in  numbers  and  rewards,  for  their 
flourishing  reduces  the  prosperity  of  the  community  as 
a  whole. 

That  the  head  of  each  family  should  be  the  priest  of 
the  household  and  religion  a  domestic  observance  neither 
ignored  nor  obtruded  is  **a  consummation  devoutly  to 
be  wished."       But  under  present  circumstances  with 


264  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

many  citizens  indifferent  about  such,  matters,  the  pros- 
pect for  advantageous  change  is  a  remote  one,  and  under 
any  conditions  the  intellectual  and  moral  understanding 
of  the  masses  must  be  trained  and  heightened  before  the 
caste  which  has  arrogated  unwarrantably  the  entire 
teaching  of  morality  can  be  dispensed  with.  The  num- 
ber of  ministers  of  the  gospel  is  large,  the  results  of  their 
labors  meagre,  and  the  money  devoted  to  their  purposes 
is  practically  thrown  away.  Their  sermons  repel,  and 
but  for  the  musical  and  ceremonious  accompaniments!  of 
their  services  they  would  have  no  audiences. 

One  of  the  causes  of  the  indifference  manifested  to  re- 
ligious observance  is  the  preacher  himself.  In  the  prog- 
ress towards  our  present  imperfect  civilization  man  has 
passed  through  many  stages.  He  was  a  hunter,  a  herds- 
man, and  an  agriculturist  before  he  became  a  denizen  of 
towns,  and  when  facilities  for  these  successive  advances 
were  lacking  he  stopped  short  in  his  development.  The 
individual  goes  through  analagous  conditions.  He  is 
first  a  physical  being  with  senses  craving  exercise  and 
active  play  of  limbs  and  muscles  but  without  sentiment 
and  inapt  at  reasoning.  As  he  matures  he  becomes  in- 
tellectual, and  pictures,  plays,  poems,  and  objects  of  na- 
ture afford  him  keener  joys  than  games  and  contests. 
Later  an  ethical  sense  is  evolved,  he  reasons  and  discov- 
ers why  things  are  good  or  otherwise,  the  beauty  of  the 
production  of  art,  the  justice  of  awards,  the  motive  of 
actions,  the  appropriate,  the  wise,  the  noble  appeal  to 
and  please  him.  Later  still  a  spiritual  stage  is  reached 
and  the  charm  of  all  else  fades  before  the  interest  af- 


EXCURSUS  265 

forded  by  consideration  of  the  hereafter  and  kindred 
themes. 

The  complete  being  is  he  who  has  in  proper  order  un- 
dergone these  several  experiences.  We,  however,  train 
young  men  for  the  Christian  ministry,  suppressing  their 
delight  in  physical  feats,  restricting  their  joys  of  emo- 
tion, and  prematurely  forcing  a  spiritual  development 
without  the  intermediate  growths,  and  as  a  result  we  get 
a  sort  of  fourth  sex,  untactful,  undiscriminating,  strange 
creatures,  who  are  coldly  tolerated,  when  not  avoided, 
by  men.  Be  they  never  so  young,  these  persons  will 
give  advice  from  their  pulpits  on  every  phase  of  the 
business  of  life.  Generally  tame  and  uninteresting,  they 
sometimes  become  sensational,  forget  the  injunction 
''Judge  not"  and  evidence  in  themselves  how  familiar- 
ity with  the  Ten  Commandments  breeds  contempt  for 
the  ninth.  And  they  complain  because  their  congrega- 
tions are  small. 

If  when  the  weight  of  years  makes  it  advisable  that 
scientists,  professors,  engineers,  physicians,  and  other 
cultured  individuals  should  be  succeeded  by  younger  and 
fresher  men,  the  ministerial  vocation  were  reserved  as 
an  honorable  retirement  for  these,  their  special  knowl- 
edge combined  with  their  full  experience  of  life  would 
give  to  their  discourses  and  admonitions  weight,  power, 
originality,  and  interest  such  as  must  ever  be  wanting  in 
men  educated  for  the  pulpit.  They  would  give  dignity 
and  importance  to  their  office,  and  lift  religion  from  its 
present  sunken  condition. 

The  legal  profession  is  said  to  have  among  its  follow- 


266  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ers  many  men  of  high,  honor  and  flawless  conduct.  These 
however  are  spectators,  not  participating  in  the  services 
which  attract  attention  because  of  the  enormous  fees  re- 
ceived, and  they  are  too  few  to  modify  to  any  great  ex- 
tent the  characteristics  of  their  class.  The  lawyer  has 
changed  the  very  nature  of  his  calling  from  what  is  was 
originally.  He  is  no  longer,  in  anything  but  pretense, 
an  officer  actually  assisting  in  the  dispensation  of  justice, 
but  rather  an  instrument  for  corrupting  and  perverting 
it.  To  exterminate  the  entire  class  has  been  suggested  as 
the  quickest  and  surest  way  to  reduce  crime.  Pending 
that  drastic  step,  they  should  be  debarred  from  all  judi- 
cial office,  because  their  fondness  for  quibble  and  techni- 
cality makes  them  foes  to  justice;  legislative  positions 
should  be  withheld  from  them,  for  a  fee  will  influence 
their  vote.  Military  training  would  acquaint  them  with 
honor  and  an  improvement  in  their  general  conduct  would 
be  effected  by  dispensing  with  their  forensic  displays, 
and  requiring  the  presentation  of  arguments  in  writing. 
Additional  benefits  would  result  from  compelling  them  to 
be  respectful  in  cross  examination,  and  fixing  their  re- 
muneration by  a  scale  prohibitive  of  the  extravagance 
now  rampant. 

The  Trader's  interests  are  so  well  guarded  that  any 
attempt  to  limit  his  activity  seems  foredoomed  to  failure. 
Because  of  his  relation  to  the  producer,  manufacturer, 
and  constructor,  he  receives  credit  for  their  achieve- 
ments, and  they  are  blamed  for  many  of  his  wrongdo- 
ings. Every  kind  of  production  is  subject  to  his  manip- 
ulations. The  fluctuations  of  the  stockmarket  are  in- 
fluenced by  him,  the  heaviest  fees  to  lawyers  are  paid  by 


EXCURSUS  267 

him,  and  in  the  legislature  he  has  most  of  the  repre- 
sentation. His  service  to  the  community,  nevertheless, 
is  only  that  of  supplying  the  place  of  barter,  for  which 
he  provides  a  cumbersome  and  unscientific  substitute, 
with  unnecessary  departments  and  duplications  provid- 
ing opportunity  for  fraud,  and  excessively  expensive. 
Not  the  best  discharge  of  duty,  but  the  securing  of  profit 
is  the  object  for  which  he  strives. 

In  money-lendiDg,  a  difference  is  recognized  be.tween 
interest,  and  excessive  interest  which  is  called  usury  and 
legislated  against  by  many  governments.  No  distinction 
is  drawn  between  profits  and  excessive  profit,  although 
some  articles  in  passing  from  producer  to  consumer  are 
trebled  in  price.  To  buy  cheap  and  sell  dear  is  the  prac- 
tice of  the  trader,  and  the  legitimate  excuse  for  his  ex- 
istence as  a  class  is  lost  sight  of. 

In  the  manufacture  of  commodities  cost  has  been  re- 
duced by  method,  organization,  and  invention.  A  fac- 
tory, like  a  piece  of  machinery,  progresses  by  elimin- 
ating and  displacing  the  unnecessary  and  attaining 
greater  simplicity  and  economy.  The  trader  reverses 
this  procedure.  Superfluous  departments  which  may 
increase  individual  business  but  do  not  improve  the  con- 
ditions of  exchange  as  a  whole  are  continually  added,  the 
latest  being  the  advertising  agent.  A  dozen  firms,  any 
one  of  which  could  adequately  supply  the  wants  of  the 
community  in  its  line  of  business,  have  duplicate  estab- 
lishments and  equipments:  and  each  goes  over  the  same 
territory  and  sells  a  similar  article,  and  the  maintenance 
of  all  is  drawn  from  the  community  in  the  shape  of 
profits. 


268  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

The  lack  of  comprehensive  method,  the  disregard  for 
economical  organization  and  management,  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  unnecessary  employes  and  the  excessive  re- 
wards are  enough  to  condemn  the  system  under  which 
the  trader's  duties  are  discharged,  and  there  are  other 
evils.  By  its  extravagance  and  ostentation  this  class 
causes  a  universal  rivalry  in  unthrift  and  luxury.  The 
rapidity  with  which  some  of  its  members  acquire  enor- 
mous fortunes  attracts  from  honorable  callings,  some 
who  but  for  that  lure  might  have  chosen  more  useful 
pursuits.  The  apparent  success  of  unscrupulous  means, 
of  which  it  presents  numerous  examples,  has  a  demoral- 
izing effect  upon  every  other  class.  Its  practice  of  ex- 
torting profits  regardless  of  the  worth  of  service  is  im- 
itated, and  its  misrepresentations  and  extravagant  use 
of  superlatives  in  language  are  so  general  that  they  are 
regarded  without  disgust  or  reprobation  as  the  natural 
accompaniments  of  business. 

The  trader's  service  to  the  state  is  poorly  and  clumsily 
discharged,  and  abominably  overpaid,  and  the  class  is 
too  numerous  and  powerful.  The  rest  of  the  community 
is  as  Sindbad,  and  the  trader  is  the  old  man  of  the  sea. 

Large  organizations  operating  over  an  entire  common- 
wealth, each  distributing  one  class  of  commodities ;  elim- 
inating travelers,  advertisements,  costly  displays,  un- 
necessary departments  and  the  duplications  of  all  these, 
would  have  advantages  over  the  multiplicity  of  distrib- 
uting agencies  now  existing  just  as  the  factory  has  over 
the  small  producer  and  machine  production  over  hand 
labor.  "Wisely  guarded  these  would  supplant  the  trader 
to  a  great  extent  and  benefit  the  commonwealth.     If 


EXCURSUS  269 

governments  fostered  and  encouraged  the  formation  of 
such  trusts  and  also  provided  for  the  gradual  acquire- 
ment, by  the  state,  of  their  possession  and  powei^,  by 
some  such  means  as  requiring  the  surrender  of  one  per 
cent  of  their  stock  yearly  as  a  tax,  with  proportionate 
representation  in  the  directorate  as  soon  as  one-fourth 
of  the  stock  has  become  the  property  of  the  state,  the 
superior  efficiency  and  economy  would  be  preserved  and 
the  objectionable  possibilities  minimized. 

And  in  addition  to  their  usual  shares  which  are  as- 
sumed to  represent  an  actual  investment,  all  privileged 
corporations  should  be  required  to  assume  a  further  re- 
sponsibility, in  the  shape  of  another  capital  stock  of 
equal  amounts  to  be  retained  in  their  treasury,  the  rev- 
enues from  it  to  be  given  to  every  employe  in  the  pro- 
portion of  one  share  yearly  until  the  completion  of  a 
stated  number  of  years'  service,  after  which  without 
further  labor  on  his  part,  the  income  should  continue 
until  the  worker's  death,  the  shares  thereupon  reverting 
to  the  corporation  for  issuance  to  other  employes.  This 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  toilers  would  mean 
the  diversion  of  much  of  the  natural  increment  of  the 
value  of  their  undertaking  from  the  owners,  but  in  the 
abolition  of  the  unrest  which  results  from  the  worker 
having  no  share  in  that  enhancement  now,  and  the  relief 
from  the  constant  dependence  under  which  he  suffers, 
there  would  be  a  compensating  gain.  He  would  be  in- 
terested in  the  careful  and  economical  discharge  of  his 
duties,  and  the  resort  to  strikes  would  have  less  justifica- 
tion. 

A  more  frank  recognition  of  labor  unions  would  be 


270  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

necessary  under  this  arrangement.  The  workers  would 
acquire  some  representation  on  the  board  of  directors, 
and  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  power  the  unions  would 
thus  possess,  the  duty  of  ensuring  and  enforcing  effi- 
cient and  adequate  execution  of  work  by  the  members 
should  be  undertaken  by  the  labor  unions. 

A  good  government  should  provide  for  the  protection, 
safety,  and  advancement  of  its  citizens,  and  it  should  se- 
cure an  equal  diffusion  of  instruction,  employment,  and 
comfort  among  all.  This  could  be  accomplished  under 
an  organization  on  the  principle  of  service. 

At  present,  the  expansion  of  foreign  commerce  and 
the  prosperity  of  the  trader  receive  more  thought  and 
furtherance  than  the  development  of  a  fine  race.  In- 
deed, in  the  desire  to  foster  trade,  the  native  race  has 
become  a  matter  of  indifference,  and  cheap  labor,  even 
if  of  alien  extraction,  is  welcomed  and  encouraged. 
Whatever  the  theoretical  definition  of  the  function  of  the 
world's  various  governments  may  be  at  present,  the 
problem  they  all  seek  to  solve  is  how  can  our  country  be 
made  most  absolutely  the  slave  for  all  the  others  ?  How 
ignoble,  mean,  and  contemptible  such  an  ambition  really 
is,  will  be  better  comprehended  when  thus  bluntly 
worded. 


KENELM  CHILLINGLY 

SEVERELY  simple  in  plot  and  construction,  dis- 
pensing with  the  dramatic  effects  of  situation  or 
opposed  and  conflicting  characters,  drawing  its  in- 
terest from  the  antagonism  between  the  man  and  the  new 
teachings,  and  recording  opinions  in  greater  fullness  than 
adventures;  concentrating  all  unfolding  depiction  upon 
Kenelm,  but  sketching  a  number  of  individuals  with  a 
completeness  proportioned  to  their  influence  on  his  de- 
velopment, and  presenting  an  animated  and  aptly  de- 
scribed succession  of  able  and  original  figures  —  this 
work  charms,  not  only  by  the  freshness  and  vigor  of  its 
action  and  observations,  but  also  because  the  author  has 
interwoven  some  of  his  own  fondnesses  and  beliefs  into 
the  history  and  character  of  Kenelm.  Running  water; 
the  fountain;  quiet  English  scenery;  violets;  Italy;  the 
Thames;  Westminster  Bridge,  Palace,  and  Abbey  — 
these  had  always,  for  Bulwer,  a  fascinating  attraction  as 
gladness-givers  for  teachers,  and  Kenelm  Chillingly  con- 
tains the  last  expression  of  his  affection  for  them;  and 
the  judgments  on  art,  literature,  and  life  which  abound 
in  the  work,  however  appropriate  to  the  hero,  are  the 
real  and  final  views  of  Kenelm 's  creator. 

The  work  is  an  arraignment  of  certain  views  and 
opinions  rife  at  the  time  it  was  written,  and  more  largely 
acted  upon  and  avowed  since.     They  are  here  displayed 


272  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

as  motives  of  conduct,  and  their  pernicious  tendencies 
are  shown  by  the  effects  they  produce  on  those  who  adopt 
them,  in  contrast  to  the  more  honorable  and  humane  be- 
havior of  him  whom  they  disgust  and  repel. 

These  reprobated  but  increasingly  popular  perver- 
sions of  the  lessons  which  time  has  sanctioned  as  wise 
and  experience  approved  as  beneficial,  have  their  founda- 
tion in  the  methods  and  principles  of  trade  which  are 
steadily  encroaching  on  all  departments  of  human  activ- 
ity, and  have  already  so  far  infected  other  callings  that 
between  man  in  his  private  character  and  in  his  public 
conduct,  a  line  of  demarcation  has  been  drawn  which  is 
fraught  with  evil  possibilities,  and  morally  indefensible. 
The  lawyer,  the  journalist,  and  the  parliamentarian  may 
act  in  their  professional  capacities  wrongfully  and  un- 
justly, and  be  excused;  while  deeds  of  a  like  reprehen- 
sible kind  perpetrated  in  the  social  circles  of  their 
friends  would  cause  irretrievable  disgrace  and  shame. 

In  Kenelm  Chillingly  the  insincerity  which  thus  be- 
comes a  characteristic  of  many  who  engage  in  serving 
the  public  is  exemplified  in  the  member  of  parliament 
whose  reason  approves  one  line  of  action,  but  who  never- 
theless speaks  and  votes  against  his  belief,  because  his 
party  having  adopted  an  unwise  measure  which  his  con- 
stituents clamor  for,  his  career  would  be  jeopardized  if 
he  manifested  any  hostility  toward  the  proposed  change ; 
the  journal-owner  whose  paper  blames  everybody  to  the 
end  that  it  may  have  plenty  of  readers,  disregards  jus- 
tice and  honor,  criticises  every  institution  destructively, 
but  never  suggests  an  improvement,  and  endeavors  to 
crush  or  undermine  the  reputation  of  those  who  are  ob- 


KENELM  CHILLINGLY  273 

jectionable  to  its  contributors  or  policy;  the  reviewer 
who,  disdaining  the  canons  applicable  to  the  literary 
productions  of  all  time,  gives  his  adherence  to  some  tran- 
sient fad  and  appraises  the  works  which  come  before 
him  in  accordance  with  the  degree  in  which  they  comply 
with  the  methods  of  the  school  whose  views  he  serves 
without  believing  in  them. 

Each  of  these  is  a  model  of  rectitude  in  private  life, 
but  differentiating  between  his  individual  conduct  and 
his  public  profession,  and  therefore  acting  under  a  dual 
standard  of  morality,  the  stricter  reserved  for  social  in- 
tercourse, the  looser  used  in  public  life,  which  is  regard- 
ed as  business  and  pursued  with  the  disregard  of  the 
common  good  which  is  usual  in  the  various  branches  of 
trade. 

The  opinions  which  these  men  hold  and  advocate  and 
by  which  they  rule  their  conduct  are  all  appeals  to  self- 
ishness. Patriotism  they  scoff  at  as  an  obsolete  preju- 
dice standing  in  the  way  of  free-trade  and  cheap  labor. 
Love  of  country,  care  for  its  position  among  nations, 
zeal  for  its  honor,  and  pride  in  its  renown,  are  con- 
demned as  old-fashioned  sentimentalities,  the  prestige 
of  a  country  being  a  trivial  asset  not  worth  the  cost  of 
its  maintenance.  Ideals  are  ridiculed  as  unscientific, 
misleading  and  foolish,  because  it  is  better  to  know  how 
contemptible  and  malicious  men  really  are  than  to  re- 
vere the  heroic  and  strive  to  attain  to  it.  They  hold  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  an  owner  to  get  the  fullest  returns  from 
his  property,  regardless  of  tenant  or  employe,  for  he  is 
charged  with  the  task  of  producing  the  maximum  for 
the  consumer,  and  the  fate  of  the  laborer  is  no  concern 


274  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

of  his ;  that  marriage  is  to  be  avoided  because  a  wife  is 
a  costly  encumbrance,  and  woman  a  simulating  fraud 
and  mischief-maker;  that  the  democracy  is  omniscient, 
and  when  in  the  name  of  progress  it  demands  changes 
or  innovations,  the  legislator  must  facilitate  their  execu- 
tion even  though  in  his  judgment  the  proposals  are  un- 
wise. 

In  favor  of  these  propositions  much  may  be  advanced. 
Nevertheless  their  general  acceptance  would  demolish 
reverence  for  the  past,  discourage  beneficent  activity  in 
the  present,  and  destroy  all  worthy  ambition  and  faith 
in  the  future.  That  they  influence  many  now  is  a  sign 
of  retrogression,  for  all  that  we  approve  or  enjoy  today 
has  been  produced  in  scorn  of  such  doctrines,  and  had 
our  ancestors  believed  thus,  their  deeds  and  achieve- 
ments would  not  have  loomed  so  large  in  the  vistas  of 
history. 

These  articles  of  The  Trader's  Creed  correctly  reflect 
the  appreciation  of  the  commodity  which  furnishes  a 
profit,  over  the  human  being  whose  labor  made  the  com- 
modity. The  product  receives  greater  consideration 
than  the  producer ;  and  with  the  growth  of  the  trader 's 
influence,  these  views  will  become  more  general,  and  their 
effects  more  mischievous. 

Kenelm  is  the  representative  of  the  class  of  English 
gentleman  from  which  all  modernism  is  a  continued  de- 
parture. Courage,  honor,  culture,  and  courtesy  are  to 
him  more  than  mere  names.  Position  is  never  used  as 
an  offensive  privilege.  He  recognizes  in  every  true  man 
a  brother ;  and  he  regards  the  mean,  the  sordid,  and  the 
selfish  as  contemptible.     Though  evading  or  declining 


KENELM  CHILLINGLY  275 

honorable  and  responsible  duties,  he  yet  does  good,  for 
his  unostentatious  acts  are  tactful  and  wise  and  his  ex- 
ample is  elevating"  and  salutary. 

Kenelm  is  an  only  son,  heir  to  an  ancient  name  and 
large  estates.  As  a  preparation  for  active  life  he  is 
placed  with  a  tutor  who  is  an  accomplished  scholar,  a 
man  of  the  world  and  an  authority  on  the  new  ideas, 
which  he  instils  into  his  pupil  with  the  definite  purpose 
of  equipping  him  for  a  successful  public  career.  Kenelm 
by  birth,  rearing,  and  association  has  inherited  and  ac- 
quired the  more  chivalrous  beliefs  of  his  race.  He  is 
strong,  well  informed,  capable  of  energetic  exertion,  and 
purposeful  and  thorough  in  all  he  undertakes.  He  is 
also  sincere  and  truthful ;  and  the  lessons  of  his  teacher, 
supplemented  by  the  results  of  his  observations  of  their 
ejffiects  on  those  who  accept  and  practice  them,  instead 
of  developing  a  desire  for  emulation,  cause  him  to  be- 
come contemptuous  of  fame,  indifferent  to  the  usual  am- 
bitions of  men  of  his  class,  and  unwilling  to  participate 
in  their  attempts  to  legislate  and  rule ;  for  he  is  unself- 
ish, patriotic,  and  has  large  sympathy  with  mankind. 
The  falsity  and  active  selfseeking  which  he  sees  every- 
where cause  a  distaste  for  the  circles  in  which  deceits 
and  pretenses  abound.  He  declines  all  friendships,  his 
recognized  abilities  have  no  vent,  and  he  surrenders  him- 
self to  a  tranquil  indifference,  nothing  being  worth 
while,  because  action  is  more  likely  to  do  harm  than 
good.  So  he  becomes  a  contemplative,  self -communing 
nurser  of  crotchets,  a  spectator  instead  of  an  actor,  an 
old  young  man. 

To  dissipate  the  oddities  which  the  conflict  of  new 


276  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ideas  with  old  ones  has  produced  in  Kenehn,  his  father 
proposes  a  tour  with  friends  in  Europe.  An  accidental 
meeting  with  a  wandering  minstrel  suggests  a  more 
promising  experience,  and  alone  and  on  foot  the  youth 
sets  out  on  travels  in  his  owti  country.  His  adventures 
are  varied  enough,  and  all  tend  toward  the  refutation 
of  the  lessons  he  acquired  from  Mr.  Welby.  Taught  to 
regard  everything  with  the  scientist's  eye,  avoiding  the 
imaginative  and  valuing  only  the  actual,  his  views  are 
widened  by  his  discussions  with  the  minstrel,  who  shows 
him  that  nature  is  more  than  a  machine,  that  mankind 
readily  and  universally  sympathizes  with  the  unselfish 
and  chivalrous,  that  imagining  may  be  as  instructive  as 
reasoning,  and  is  a  more  noble  intellectual  exercise.  Ev- 
eryone in  whose  behalf  he  interferes  shows  gratitude, 
appreciation,  and  desire  to  improve,  and  he  finds  that 
except  in  metropolitan  coteriesi  the  doctrines  with  which 
he  has  been  imbued  have  few  adherents  and  little  justi- 
fication. 

Cecilia  Travers  interests  but  does  not  yet  attract  him, 
for  though  he  perceives  that  the  many  are  worthy,  he 
cannot  regard  duty  with  anything  like  enthusiasm  be- 
cause of  the  apparent  hopelessness  of  effort  against  the 
ignoble.  He  meets  Lily,  the  personification  of  romance, 
and  his  heart  and  mind  are  changed.  An  exalted  con- 
ception of  the  purposes  of  life,  and  an  eager  desire  to 
fulfill  them  is  bom  of  his  love,  and  that  his  parents  may 
be  proud  of  his  choice,  he  determines  to  engage  in  active 
affairs.  The  sorrow  which  follows,  by  showing  how  much 
each  man  has  in  common  with  his  race,  that  no  single 


KENELM  CHILLINGLY  277 

passion  can  be  permitted  lastingly  to  blight  or  monop- 
olize a  life,  that  humanity  has  claims  on  all  its  sons,  and 
that  in  addition  to  sharing  the  common  toils  and  griefs, 
he  to  whom  ability  is  given  is  recreant  to  his  trust  un- 
less he  strive  to  work  out  for  successive  multitudes  some 
joy  or  gladdeniug  possession,  arouses  purpose  in  Ken- 
elm,  and  in  the  interest  of  a  wider  circle  than  the  home 
of  his  family,  he  resolves  to  cast  aside  the  new  ideas  and 
earnestly  work  and  battle  for  the  old. 

Lily  Mordaunt  is  a  creation  as  interesting  33  original, 
as  far  removed  from  reality  as  romance  should  ever  be, 
wise  though  unschooled,  perceiving  intuitively  what 
teaching  rarely  succeeds  in  rendering  comprehensible, 
making  all  who  know  her  happier  and  better,  and  ac- 
complishing a  task  never  undertaken  before.  Her  fam- 
ily history,  kept  as  a  secret  from  herself,  is  a  homily 
against  the  vicious  ambition,  too  generally  regarded  as 
deserving  of  praise,  against  which  Kenelm  revolts,  and 
which  this  work  denounces:  the  ambition  of  the  gentle- 
man to  exalt  himself  into  a  trader.  The  ruined  tower 
and  wrecked  fortunes  of  the  Fletwodes  have  reiterated 
mention  long  before  the  whole  tragic  story  is  related,  be- 
cause that  vice  is  one  against  which  repeated  warnings 
are  needed. 

In  Cecilia  Travers  is  pictured  an  engaging  type  of 
woman,  which  is  becoming  more  rare  every  day.  Pos- 
sessing talents  yet  unassuming,  handsome  but  avoiding 
display,  never  trying  to  eclipse  others  nor  to  domineer, 
gentle,  tender,  sincere,  of  serene  and  cheerful  temper 
and  companionable  disposition  —  the  womanly  woman, 


278  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

who  ennobles  and  exalts  man's  ambitions,  inspires  un- 
hesitating trust,  and  makes  Duty  attractive,  fascinating, 
and  glorious. 

The  intimate  and  unaffected  friendship  between  Sir 
Peter  and  Kenelm,  who  have  many  characteristics  in 
common,  reveals  possibilities  rarely  realized  in  the  rela- 
tion between  father  and  son.  Each  is  to  the  other  the 
dearest  friend  in  the  world,  each  understands  the  other, 
and  in  conversation  or  correspondence  each  is  perfectly 
frank  and  confiding.  Though  the  father's  plans  are 
often  thwarted  because  of  the  son's  oddities,  he  finds 
a  compensating  pleasure  in  yielding  to  the  young  man's 
wishes  and  assists  in  carrying  them  out,  and  when  Ken- 
elm  divines  any  desire  or  purpose  which  Sir  Peter  on 
his  account  hesitates  to  suggest,  he  removes  the  difficulty 
by  anticipating  his  father's  request  and  proposing  the 
doing  of  these  things.  The  readiest  way  to  Sir  Peter's 
heart  is  to  praise  Kenelm,  and  he  treats  Cecilia  as  a 
daughter  because  he  is  aware  of  her  affection  for  his 
son. 

There  is  much  delightful  irony  in  the  book,  delightful 
because  free  from  malice;  several  pretty  little  lyrics, 
and  one  impressive  ballad. 

The  interior  meaning  of  Kenelm  Chillingly  is  that  the 
imagination  is  as  important  a  contributor  to  man's  per- 
ceptions as  the  reason,  and  a  more  effective  inspirer  of 
his  deeds  and  strivings.  The  realist's  conceptions  of 
man  and  his  world  are  partial  and  incomplete,  because 
derived  from  reasoning  only.  Art  causes  a  modification 
in  these  views,  by  demonstrating  the  importance  and  in- 
fluence of  imagination. 


KENELM  CHILLINGLY  279 

And  experience  with  men  proves  that  they  are  re- 
sponsive to  unselfish  appeals,  capable  of  continued  self 
sacrifice,  desirous  of  good,  and  brotherly  in  sympathy 
and  helpfulness. 

Duty  seen  now  is  calmly  viewed  and  estimated  ap- 
preciatively, but  awakens  no  enthusiasm. 

Romance  arouses  imagination  and  a  desire  to  propiti- 
ate and  gratify  friends  by  doing  something  of  worth. 
Disappointment  blots  out  this  limited  ambition. 

Sorrow  broadens  the  comprehension  of  life 's  privileges 
and  responsibilities  by  the  sympathy  with  all  who  suf- 
fer which  it  calls  forth;  makes  labor  for  humanity's 
benefit  a  desired  service;  and  by  the  grander  views  of 
lifers  realities  which  it  bequeaths,  stimulates  to  deter- 
mined effort  what  was  but  desultory  caprice;  and  by 
fitting  man  for  beneficent^  action  prepares  that  change 
in  habit  under  which  the  discerned  duty  mil  have  a 
calmer  and  more  lasting  attraction  than  even  romance 
and  beauty. 

Kenelm  Chillingly  was  written  concurrently  with  The 
Parisians,  and  published  in  1873  after  its  author's 
death. 


THE  PAEISIANS 

THE  last  days  of  Paris  under  Louis  Napoleon ;  the 
unrecognized  causes  of  the  fall  of  the  empire ;  and 
the  changes  wrought  by  the  calamity  in  the  char- 
acter and  disposition  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  dur- 
ing the  siege  and  its  accompanying  miseries,  are  among 
the  subjects  illustrated  and  illumined  in  The  Parisians. 
Under  the  autocratic  rule  of  Louis  Napoleon,  France 
had  reassumed  her  position  among  the  great  powers. 
Paris  had  been  rebuilt  on  grander  lines.  The  artisan 
had  become  consummate  in  skill  and  comfortable  in  cir- 
cumstances. But  these  advantages  and  gains  failed  to 
conciliate  the  favor  of  the  well-bom,  the  cultivated,  or 
the  aspiring.  For  the  most  part  these  stood  aloof,  or 
gathered  in  coteries  of  Orleanists,  Bourbons,  Socialists, 
Eepublicans,  and  Revolutionists,  each  desiring  a  different 
condition,  all  endeavoring  to  discredit  and  undermine 
the  existing  government.  The  Emperor's  policy  of  en- 
couraging trade  had  given  vocations  and  careers  to 
thousands,  and  increased  the  number  of  millionaires, 
speculators,  stock-brokers,  and  similar  classes;  and  on 
their  adherence  and  active  support,  and  the  loyalty  of 
the  army,  his  continuance  in  power  mainly  depended. 
But  traders  are  ever  timorous,  unreliable,  and  over-con- 
cerned about  their  own  welfare ;  and  when  adversity  put 
their  gratitude  to  the  test,  they  were  found  wanting. 


THE  PARISIANS  281 

For  many  years  the  emperor  had  suffered  from  the 
most  excruciating  disease  that  a  human  being  can  be 
afflicted  with.  Physical  agony,  which  benumbs  the  fac- 
ulties, necessitated  a  delegation  of  his  powers  and  du- 
ties to  others.  Aware  of  his  feeble  hold  on  life,  and 
anxious  to  safeguard  the  sovereignty  he  had  established, 
he  sought  to  widen  and  strengthen  its  foundations,  and 
therefore  extended  the  liberty  of  the  press,  relinquished 
his  hitherto  absolute  power,  and  instituted  a  government 
by  ministers  after  the  English  pattern. 

Paris  looked  upon  these  concessions  as  evidences  of 
weakness.  The  new  growth  of  journals  encouraged  and 
augmented  the  opposition.  Mediocrities  alone  were 
available  for  a  cabinet,  the  prestige  of  the  government 
suffered  by  the  division  of  authority,  and  it  was  weak- 
ened by  what  should  have  added  strength. 

And  now  Prussia  determined  that  the  resort  to  arms 
for  which  she  had  long  been  preparing  should  take  place. 
The  excuse  for  war  in  the  first  instance  was  furnished 
by  conditions  in  Spain,  but  practically  all  France,  eager 
to  humiliate  Prussia,  united  in  the  cry  ''on  to  Berlin," 
and  the  ministry  caught  the  popular  infection,  and  de- 
sired war.  For  three  days  the  emperor  withstood  the 
noisy  vituperation  of  Paris  and  the  arguments  of  the 
cabinet.  Then  he  yielded  to  their  wishes  and  signed  the 
declaration. 

Meanwhile  the  trader  had  been  fattening  on  the  army. 
Fraud  and  jobbery  had  honey-combed  the  entire  service, 
and  the  numbers  of  soldiers  and  their  thorough  arma- 
ment, which  as  represented  encouraged  M.  Ollivier  to 
avow  that  ''he  entered  upon  war  w^ith  a  light  heart,'' 


282  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

were  soon  found  to  be  illusory,  deceptive,  and  inadequate. 

The  Napoleonic  tradition  dictated  that  the  emperor 
should  accompany  the  army;  and  under  the  modified 
constitution  the  ministry  was  empowered  to  order,  pro- 
vide for,  and  decide  upon  all  movements  and  actions  of 
the  forces  in  the  field,  and  this  gave  occasion  for  divided 
counsels. 

The  accepted  plan  of  campaign  depended  for  its  suc- 
cess upon  quick  army  concentration  and  crossing  the 
Rhine  at  Maxau,  before  the  Prussians  moved.  But  two 
weeks  elapsed  before  the  ministry  supplied  troops,  and 
these  were  inadequate  in  numbers  and  deficient  in  equip- 
ment. 

In  rapidity  of  movement  the  Prussians  outstripped 
the  French,  in  discipline  they  excelled  them.  They  were 
superior  in  numbers,  and  in  singleness  of  purpose  they 
had  a  further  advantage,  for  the  ministry  at  Paris  over- 
ruled the  generals  in  the  field,  and  imposed  upon  them 
plans  which  resulted  in  an  unheard-of  series  of  reverses. 

After  a  trivial  victory  at  Saarbuck,  in  quick  succes- 
sion losses  were  sustained  at  Weissenberg,  Woerth,  and 
Forback,  followed  by  the  disastrous  defeat  at  Sedan, 
where  the  sun  of  the  Napoleonic  dynasty  went  down  in 
cloud  and  storm  and  carnage.  For  the  empire  fell  when 
its  founder  surrendered  his  sword  and  became  a  prisoner 
of  war. 

Following  the  usual  custom,  upon  realizing  that  their 
army  had  been  defeated,  the  Parisians  rose  in  revolt. 
The  senate  was  dissolved,  a  republic  proclaimed,  and  a 
provisional  government  assumed  the  duty  of  maintain- 
ing order  and  defending  the  city,  which,  surrounded  by 


THE  PARISIANS  283 

a  besieging  army,  remained  shut  off  from  civilization 
until  starvation  compelled  surrender. 

During  the  four  months  of  complete  isolation,  the  suf- 
ferings and  dangers  to  which  the  citizens  were  subject- 
ed produced  much  disorder  and  outrage,  but  generally 
the  finer  elements  of  character  were  brought  into  evi- 
dence. Former  exquisites  and  society  favorites  became 
ministrants  of  charity,  volunteers  for  ambulance  work, 
soldiers,  and  leaders  in  desperate  sorties;  delicate  and 
tenderly  nurtured  women  joined  the  ranks  of  nurses  and 
attached  themselves  to  hospitals;  the  churches  were  al- 
ways filled,  and  a  populace  universally  regarded  as  the 
most  gay  and  careless,  demonstrated  that  it  could  be  de- 
vout, serious,  and  bravely  indifferent  to  peril,  discom- 
fort, and  privation. 

In  The  Parisians  the  several  aspects  of  French  metro- 
politan life  during  the  closing  days  of  the  second  em- 
pire are  depicted  with  an  impartial  discernment  which 
combines  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  various  depart- 
ments with  an  intelligent  comprehension  of  their  rela- 
tive importance  as  parts  of  a  whole.  Attention  is  chief- 
ly drawn  to  and  care  and  thought  bestowed  upon,  the 
worthy  and  admirable  but  not  to  the  entire  suppression 
of  the  vile  and  ignoble. 

The  plot  of  the  work  is  a  contributive  rather  than  a 
fundamental  source  of  interest,  but  it  is  marvellously 
ingenious  and  clever,  of  sufficient  complexity  to  embrace 
over  a  score  of  characters,  yet  unconfused,  clear,  con- 
sistent in  every  detail,  and  conforming  to  the  actual  se- 
quence of  events. 

The  incidents  succeed  each  other  naturally  and  inevit- 


284  PEOSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ably,  and  are  so  diverse  that  while  sometimes  affording 
a  pleased  amusement,  they  more  frequently  arouse  ter- 
ror, sympathy,  and  pity.  And  always  the  event  or  sub- 
ject discussed  receives  illumining  elucidation  from  sa- 
gacious comment,  or  penetrative  critical  remarks.  Thus 
the  suggestive  wisdom  of  the  work  is  as  marked  as  its 
masterly  construction. 

Representatives  of  the  administrative,  literary,  enter- 
prising, social,  and  revoluntionary  sections  of  the  com- 
munity are  introduced,  and  we  are  made  cognizant  of 
the  slender  basis  of  popularity  on  which  the  apparently 
stable  institution  of  government  rests  —  its  supporters 
apathetic  and  self  seeking  when  of  influence;  when  en- 
thusiastic neither  inspiring  confidence  nor  winning  con- 
verts; and  its  foes  numerous,  active,  and  eager  for  its 
destruction,  not  agreeing  upon  any  reasonable  plan  for 
a  more  acceptable  system,  but  fostering  dissatisfaction 
with  the  passibly  pleasant  order,  in  the  expectation 
that  from  the  Medea-caldron  of  its  ruin,  a  rejuvenated 
France  would  arise. 

The  lively,  pleasure-loving,  fickle,  inconsistent,  and  im- 
pulsive inhabitants  of  the  perennially  sumptuous  and 
splendid  city  are  first  displayed  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
amazing  prosperity  and  luxury  resulting  from  the  rule 
of  Louis  Napoleon,  proudly  conscious  of  their  preem- 
inence, and  immoderately  confident  in  their  puissance 
and  invincibility;  then  with  their  susceptibilities  ruf- 
fled, regarding  themselves  as  affronted,  clamoring  for 
war,  and  resenting  all  prudent  dissuasion;  again  as- 
tounded and  bewildered  by  the  reiterated  failures  of 
their  army,  denouncing  their  rulers,  accusing  their  gen- 


THE  PARISIANS  285 

erals,  and  applauding  the  magniloquence  of  mouth- 
fighters.  Then  suffering  not  only  the  privations  caused 
by  the  iron  ring  of  the  conqueror's  armed  investment, 
but  also  the  disorder  and  ruin  consequent  upon  the  sub- 
stitution of  mob  rule  for  orderly  government;  and  de- 
veloping under  these  multiplied  disasters  patience,  self- 
abnegation,  modest  heroism,  and  unselfish  devotion  — 
qualities  latent  in  all  Frenchmen,  though  ordinarily  ob- 
scured in  Paris  by  an  affectation  of  frivolity  and  ego- 
tism, too  generally  accounted  their  real  characteristics. 

In  the  confidential  search  necessitated  by  the  trust  be- 
queathed to  him,  Graham  Vane  engages  the  services  of 
M.  Renard,  and  also  enlists  the  aid  of  Frederic  Lemer- 
cier,  whose  large  acquaintance  and  obliging  disposition 
eminently  fit  him  for  assisting  in  Vane's  difficult  task. 
After  much  wearjdng  delay  a  sHght  clue  is  found,  and 
from  this  beginning,  despite  many  checks  and  disap- 
pointments, other  details  are  accumulated,  and  at  last 
the  tangled  skein  is  unraveled. 

In  pursuing  his  investigations  Vane  frequents  the 
social  and  literary  circles  of  his  friends,  and  penetrates 
into  the  region  of  the  conspirators  and  revolutionists; 
and  the  persons  met,  whether  in  frank  intercourse  or 
casual  contact,  pass  before  us  as  a  fairly  representative 
panorama  of  Parisian  life. 

We  see  the  high  spirited  young  Marquis,  fresh  from 
his  impoverished  estate,  rubbing  off  his  Norman  rusticity 
and  much  of  his  prudent  thriftiness  by  contact  with 
wealthier  members  of  his  class,  blossoming  naturally 
into  the  polished  man  of  the  world,  anxious  to  serve  his 
country,  but  finding  no  opportunity  until  France,  need- 


286  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

ing  defenders,  accepts  him  as  a  soldier;  those  paladins 
of  the  Bourse,  the  spectacular  Louvier,  and  the  generous 
Duplessis;  the  politic  man  of  letters  Savarin,  cynical 
and  satirical  in  opinion  and  observation  but  kindly  in 
counsel  and  invariably  genial,  and  the  writers  who  clus- 
ter around  him;  the  veteran  De  Breze,  antagonizing 
the  settled  order  and  sighing  for  the  past  —  his  habit 
under  every  administration;  the  last  new  poet,  with  his 
songs  to  the  "Ondine  of  Paris,"  partly  inspired  by 
Julie,  partly  by  absinthe;  the  brothers  Raoul  and  En- 
guerrand,  admirable  in  their  every  act,  and  however  dif- 
ferent in  tastes  and  habits  wholly  alike  in  their  devoted 
affection;  Victor  de  Mauleon,  former  leader  of  fashion, 
now  a  sedate  watcher  of  events,  foreseeing  change,  bent 
on  playing  no  unimportant  part  in  the  coming  days, 
plotting  and  working  against  the  rule  which  opposes  his 
rise,  and  directing  and  inspiring  those  nurses  of  strife 
whom  occasion  and  passion  made  the  shakers  of  the 
throne  —  the  mild  Doctor  of  the  Poor,  the  rash  Dom- 
binsky,  Paul  Grimm  whom  vanity  made  a  conspirator 
(in  that  capacity  he  interested  the  ladies)  ;  Edgar  Fer- 
rier,  versatile,  daring,  with  madness  in  his  blood;  and 
the  great  hearted  Monnier,  who,  taking  from  Rousseau 
many  teachings  to  his  injury,  ignored  the  only  safe  max- 
im that  deluder  of  youth  ever  put  forth,  "  it  is  not  per- 
mitted to  an  honest  man  to  corrupt  himself  for  the  sake 
of  others." 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  many  uncommon  figures, 
who  play  their  parts  and  are  involved  in  the  tragedy  of 
an;  empire 's  fall.  Three  characters  stand  out  in  greater 
prominence  than  the  rest.     Their  motives  and  purposes 


THE  PARISIANS  287 

are  displayed  and  analyzed,  and  their  portraits  more 
fully  elaborated.  One  illustrates  the  heroism  of  those 
who  endured,  at  a  time  when  action  was  productive  of 
welter.  A  second  shows  the  corrupting  of  a  fine  nature 
which  follows  its  surrender  to  the  stronger  will  of  an- 
other, and  illustrates  the  manipulated  agencies  by  which 
revolutions  are  brought  about.  And  the  third  is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  leader  who  by  influence  and  personality 
causes  others  to  do  his  will,  not  foreseeing  the  ultimate 
result,  but  sanguinely  confident  that  it  will  provide  op- 
portunity for  him. 

Of  these  the  first  is  Isaura  Cicogna,  who,  resigning  as- 
sured eminence  as  a  songstress  because  she  preferred  to 
remain  a  woman,  achieves  a  success  equally  mischievous 
when  she  essays  authorship.  She  is  patient,  consider- 
ate, unselfish,  and  dominated  by  the  sense  of  duty.  When 
social  customs  interfere  unreasonably  with  her  desires, 
she  neither  rebels  against  nor  ignores  the  tyrannous  con- 
ventions, but  recognizing  that  these  protect  and  preserve 
all  that  makes  life  agreeable  and  safe,  she  conforms  to 
the  established  rule,  and  foregoes  the  uncompanioned 
walks  which  had  become  a  pleasure.  Even  when  duty 
appears  most  stem  and  repellant,  though  the  prospect 
causes  her  to  shrink,  she  does  not  seek  to  evade  the  sac- 
rifice. 

Intuitively  perceiving  and  desiring  the  noble  and  the 
good,  with  a  mind  naturally  reverential,  broadened  by 
study,  but  never  masculine  in  its  judgments  and  appre- 
ciations, she  is  repelled  from  the  strife  for  fame  by  wit- 
nessing the  anguish  and  suffering  which  envy  and  jeal- 
ousy cause  in  others  of  her  sex  who  have  succeeded  as 


288  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

writers  and  artists;  and  because  a  calmer  existence,  un- 
embittered  if  undistinguished,  has  more  charm  for  her, 
she  welcomes  a  future  which  will  require  the  sinking  of 
the  artist  in  the  wife. 

Isaura  engages  a  larger  measure  of  Bulwer's  interest 
and  regard  than  any  other  of  his  female  creations.  He 
shows  a  father's  pride  in  her  successes,  a  parent's  solici- 
tude in  her  griefs,  dwells  with  a  lingering  fondness  on 
her  traits  of  mind  and  character,  but  hurries  over  the 
painful  entanglement  with  Gustav  Rameau. 

The  second  of  the  great  characters  is  the  socialist,  Ar- 
mand  Monnier.  In  the  ranks  of  every  association  of  re- 
formers there  are  always  a  considerable  number  who 
have  allied  themselves  with  that  particular  movement 
not  from  a  reasoned  examination  of  its  general  proposi- 
tions, but  because  of  sympathy  with  its  attack  upon  in- 
iquitous conditions,  or  flagrant  grievances,  or  intolerable 
wrongs. 

Armand  Monnier  is  one  of  these.  Domestic  complica- 
tions have  placed  him  in  a  quandary  from  which  under 
existing  conditions  there  is  no  escape.  Socialism  repu- 
diates the  forms  and  distinctions  observed  in  the  social 
system  as  at  present  constituted,  therefore  he  calls  him- 
self a  socialist.  But  as  is  the  case  with  each  adopter  of 
that  name,  he  formulates  a  distinct  and  special  kind  of 
socialism,  differing  in  important  details  from  every  other, 
though  having  many  beliefs  in  common  with  all.  ' '  Partly 
Arian,  partly  St.  Simonian,  with  a  little  of  Rousseau, 
and  a  great  deal  of  Armand  Monnier." 

He  is  chivalrous,  generous,  and  sincere,  and  his  rough 
eloquence,  heightened  by  burning  passion,  enables  him 


THE  PARISIANS  289 

to  move  and  command  the  masses.  In  his  trade  he  is  re- 
liable and  competent,  and  employment  is  always  open 
to  him;  but  when  a  strike  is  resolved  upon  he  is  loyal 
to  his  class,  and  needlessly  joins  the  revolting  workers, 
rouses  and  encourages  them  by  his  speeches,  assists  them 
from  his  savings.  Recognizing  in  Jean  Lebeau  a  pur- 
poseful leader  whose  aims  in  their  early  stages  are  iden- 
tical with  his  own,  he  devotes  himself  to  the  service  of 
that  more  able  conspirator,  and  becomes  one  of  the  rev- 
olutionary committee. 

When  the  Republic  is  proclaimed,  it  has  no  promise 
for  him,  and  when  Lebeau  dismisses  the  council  because 
of  its  disobedience,  Monnier  awakes  to  the  fact  that  he 
has  been  used  for  purposes  which  do  not  advance  his 
ideas,  and  then  thrown  aside  as  of  no  more  value,  and 
the  knowledge  humbles  and  crushes  him.  No  longer 
proud,  industrious,  and  enthusiastic,  he  sinks  in  his  own 
esteem,  and  becomes  reekless  in  conduct 

The  deterioration  of  this  grand  creature  proceeds  rap- 
idly. One  by  one  his  children  are  mercifully  taken  by 
death.  The  mother  soon  follows;  and  with  only  one  ob- 
ject in  life  Monnier  drags  out  the  miserable  days  until 
chance  shows  him  in  the  masterful  soldier  the  misguid- 
ing Lebeau,  and  Victor  de  Mauleon  is  assassinated  by 
the  man  he  duped  and  abandoned. 

Last  of  the  three  is  the  fascinating  hero  of  the  work, 
a  brilliant  embodiment  of  egotistical  ambition  and  intel- 
lectual power,  with  much  of  frankness  and  kindly  cour- 
tesy, great  ability  and  redoubtable  daring,  combining 
secret  conspiracy  against  the  government  and  ruthless 
unconcern  for  the  tools  used  and  ruined.     Contrasting 


290  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Isaura's  loyal  submission  to  authority  and  obedience  to 
its  dictates,  he  would  sweep  away  whatever  opposes  his 
designs  or  impedes  his  progress.  Yet  neither  in  manner 
nor  words  is  there  any  indication  of  the  inflexible  re- 
solve and  indomitable  will  of  this  strange  man.  His 
voice  is  attractive  and  pleasing,  his  demeanor  suave  and 
unpretentious.  He  possesses  precisely  the  qualities  re- 
quisite in  a  minister  of  the  empire.  In  that  capacity  his 
abilities  would  have  been  exercised  to  the  advantage  of 
France ;  but  by  the  irony  of  fate,  he  was  debarred  from 
it,  and  in  this  respect  his  position  is  typical  of  the  rela- 
tion between  intellect  and  the  government  of  Napolean 
the  third. 

The  first  act  of  the  tragedy  of  Victor  de  Mauleon's 
life  ended  before  the  commencement  of  this  history.  His 
career  as  leader  of  fashion  came  to  a  disastrous  end,  and 
injurious  charges  against  his  honor  had  to  be  left  to  run 
their  course,  because  his  fortune  was  gone,  and  the 
proud  man  would  tolerate  no  lesser  position  than  that 
hitherto  filled.  More  keenly  felt  than  the  busy  slander 
or  the  loss  of  wealth  was  the  ending  of  his  engagement 
with  the  English  girl  whom  he  loved  with  all  the  ardor 
of  his  being,  who  now  wrote  him  a  cold  farewell.  That 
letter  he  preserved  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
life. 

As  Jean  Lebeau  he  reenters  Paris  after  years  of  exile. 
He  has  been  a  soldier  in  Algiers,  a  seeker  of  fortune  in 
America,  he  has  won  a  reputation  for  bravery  and  pro- 
bity and  amassed  a  modest  competence.  Behind  the 
humble  profession  of  a  writer  he  hides  his  connection 
with  revolutionary  agents  whom  he  directs  and  leads. 


THE  PARISIANS  291 

He  decides  to  resume  his  name  and  station,  and  presents 
himself  to  M.  Louvier,  a  friend  of  former  days,  explains 
the  true  historj^  of  the  distorted  events,  submits  his 
proofs,  secures  his  aid,  and  learns  something  about  his 
niece.  Louvier  calls  together  the  friends  and  connec- 
tions of  the  vicomte,  and  effects  his  restoration. 

As  Victor  de  Mauleon  he  again  meets  old  friends. 
Many  are  cordial,  some  distant.  One  who  owed  life  as 
well  as  success  to  the  vicomte 's  generosity,  refused  his 
hand.  But  next  morning  this  repentant  ingrate,  now  a 
high  court  functionary,  visits  Victor  and  apologizes  for 
his  cowardice.  From  him  the  vicomte  learns  that  the 
government  will  not  accept  his  services,  and  would  op- 
pose him.  Thenceforth  his  hostility  to  the  government 
becomes  more  bold  and  damaging.  The  war  begins,  re- 
verses cause  revolt  in  Paris.  Suddenly  a  republic  is 
proclaimed.  And  he  who  most  desired  the  downfall  of 
the  empire  is  most  confounded  by  the  result,  which  his 
own  agents  helped  to  bring  about.  He  disbands  the 
council  —  and  as  Jean  Lebeau  is  seen  no  more. 

His  rank,  his  popularity  and  his  experience  as  a  sol- 
dier, make  his  rise  to  a  command  in  the  National  Guard 
a  matter  of  course.  His  battalion  is  the  best  drilled  and 
presents  the  most  orderly  appearance.  A  sortie  is  or- 
dered. In  preparation  for  it  the  vicomte  bums  all  his 
letters,  lingering  long  over  those  from  the  English  girl, 
but  finally  yielding  them  to  the  flames.  With  no  fare- 
well nor  word  of  cheer  he  goes  to  his  command,  and  brave 
deeds  are  done. 

A  dying  nun  who  says  she  is  the  vicomte 's  niece  sends 
for  him.    In  response  he  goes  to  the  convent.    When  the 


292  PROSE  ROMANCES  OF  BULWER 

Superieure  enters,  Victor  recoils,  for  this  majestic  wom- 
an is  the  English  girl  whose  tender  letters  he  had  long 
preserved.  She  informs  him  that  his  niece  Louise  died 
before  his  arrival,  that  a  letter  has  been  left  which  she 
gives  him,  and  adds  that  she,  the  poor  religieuse,  has 
learned  with  joy  that  the  honor  —  never  doubted  by  her 
—  has  been  vindicated,  and  that  prayers  for  him  are  nev- 
er by  her  omitted.  Dazed,  with  every  nerve  quivering, 
and  his  heart  dead  within  him,  the  vicomte  proceeds  to  his 
work  on  the  ramparts.  Hurriedly  he  seeks  to  carry  out 
the  request  contained  in  his  niece's  letter,  and  mechani- 
cally he  pursues  his  duties.  Though  a  mighty  future 
seems  to  be  awaiting  him,  the  charm  is  gone.  While  aid- 
ing a  poor  doctor  who  had  called  his  name  aloud,  he  is 
stabbed  by  a  wounded  communist  who  dragged  himself 
forward,  plunged  a  dagger  between  De  Mauleon's 
shoulders,  and  fell  back  dead.  The  vicomte 's  wound 
proved  mortal,  and  thus  master  and  agent  perished  to- 
gether, having  both  outlived  the  desire  for  life. 

Bulwer  and  Louis  Napoleon  were  on  friendly  terms 
before  either  became  famous,  and  the  former  was  one  of 
the  very  few  who  did  not  underestimate  the  ability  and 
determination  of  the  future  emperor. 

Napoleon  the  Third  occupied  his  last  night  at  Sedan 
with  the  perusal  of  The  Last  of  the  Barons.  The  vol- 
umes were  left  on  the  table  of  his  room. 

A  few  pages  are  lacking  in  The  Parisians,  but  the  au- 
thor's custom  of  writing  some  of  the  ending  before  reach- 
ing it,  which  was  followed  in  this  instance,  virtually 
gives  completion  to  the  work.     The  pen  fell  from  his 


THE  PARISIANS  293 

hand  while  he  was  developing  one  of  the  qaintest  situa- 
tions ever  conceived. 

The  Parisians  was  written  while  its  author  was  also 
engaged  upon  Kenelm  Chillingly  and  at  least  two  other 
works.  It  appeared  first  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  and 
was  published  in  1873. 


PEEREQUISITES  TO  GREAT  PLAYS 

FEW  subjects  have  given  more  employment  to  the 
pens  of  essayists  than  the  alleged  decadence  of 
English  Acting  Plays.  The  existing  condition  is 
usually  viewed  by  writers  as  a  lamentable  decline  from 
a  naturally  high  standard,  and  by  selecting  a  small  per- 
centage of  the  plays  of  the  past  and  comparing  these 
few  with  the  many  of  the  present,  an  apparent  founda- 
tion for  the  charge  of  modem  inferiority  is  obtained. 
Acting  plays  however,  though  immense  in  quantity  are 
generally  poor  in  quality  and  productions  of  remarkable 
worth  have  only  for  brief  periods  distinguished  the  the- 
atre of  any  country.  That  great  plays  are  rare  varia- 
tions from  a  standard  far  from  high  is  proven  by  the 
hyperbolic  laudation  showered  upon  mediocre  works.  But 
each  department  of  literature,  and  every  branch  of  art, 
presents  the  same  phenomena.  A  widened  public  now 
patronizes  theatres,  libraries,  and  studios ;  the  crude  avid- 
ity for  amusement  which  animates  its  masses  is  more 
easily  and  profitably  catered  to  than  the  taste  of  the 
discriminating  few,  and  commercialism  dominates  the 
actions  of  producers  and  impels  them  to  provide  what 
they  think  the  public  wants  rather  than  that  which 
would  improve  and  benefit. 

In  all  productions  with  which  man  has  concerned  him- 
self, animal,  vegetable,  or  intellectual,  though  variations 
may  occur  the  tendency  of  successive  generations  is  to 


PREREQUISITES  TO  GREAT  PLAYS       295 

revert  to  the  original  or  normal  type,  and  only  by  per- 
sistent interference  and  contradiction  of  that  tendency 
have  superior  forms  been  developed  and  continued.  Nat- 
ural selection  results  in  the  perpetuation  of  the  normal, 
and  left  to  themselves  the  horse,  the  sheep,  the  beet 
would  inevitably  breed  back  to  their  inferior  progen- 
itors. 

That  the  play  is  subject  to  this  law  is  shown  by  its  his- 
tory.    Beginning  with  the  goatsong  and  the  bacchic  pro- 
cession it  has  at  various  times  been  raised  to  high  im- 
portance, but  these  periods  of  exaltation  have  never  been 
long  continued.    They  have  always  followed  a  time  of  in- 
tense stress  during  which  an  entire  people  was  subjected 
to  the  discipline  and  experience  of  anxious,  exciting  and 
perturbing  circumstances,  which  elevated  intellect,  emo- 
tion and  conduct  by  compelling  habitual  self  control  and 
austerity.     Athenian  tragedy  followed  the  Persian  in- 
vasion, the  Augustan  age  succeeded  the  peril  of  Rome, 
the  Spanish  drama  flourished  after  the  expulsion  of  the 
Moors,  the  Elizabethan  plays  were  produced  subsequent 
to  the  defeat  of  the  Armada.    When  a  nation  after  sus- 
taining a  prolonged  conflict  with  a  powerful  antagonist 
achieves  a  victorious  peace  the  tense  interest  which  pro-    . 
duced  seriousness  and  earnestness  in  all,  affects  the  wri- 
ters of  that  and  the  succeeding  generation,   and  their    j' 
works  are  lofty,  serious,  and  vigorous.  But  with  the  ces-  / 
sation  of  the  cause  the  effects  gradually  disappear,  f ri-  7     ^^ 
voUty  becomes  increasingly  congenial,  heroic  and  tragic/   a^ 
works  cease  to  attract  the  many,  authors  conform  to  the 
changed  requirements,  and  comic  and  whimsical  produc- 
tions attain  an  increasing  popularity. 


296  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

The  first  necessity  for  the  production  of  great  plays  is 
a  superior  playwright.  The  advances  made  by  mankind 
have  resulted  from  the  many  learning  from  the  few. 
Cecrops  initiated  the  improvement  of  Attica.  A  school 
wherein  the  pupils  decided  upon  their  work  and  disci- 
pline without  the  direction  and  guidance  of  a  teacher 
would  not  be  a  greater  absurdity  than  many  of  the  demo- 
cratic devices  for  equalizing  intelligence  and  opportun- 
ity. The  utmost  benefit  attainable  by  such  limiting 
methods  is  the  codifying  of  technical  rules  by  which  a 
mechanical  imitation  of  what  has  already  been  accom- 
plished may  be  attempted,  but  further  progress  is  im- 
possible when  the  wise,  the  perceiving,  the  inventive,  the 
able,  are  denied  their  proper  vocation  of  pioneers  to  fur- 
ther development. 

Another  indispensable  factor  in  creating  and  main- 
taining a  high  standard  in  acting  plays  is  the  existence 
of  an  audience  with  the  training  and  capacity  necessary 
for  judging  aright,  and  the  disposition  to  be  impartial 
or  * '  biased  less  to  censure  than  to  praise.  * '  Nowhere  save 
in  ancient  Athens  could  the  general  public  be  deemed 
capable  of  deciding  on  the  merits  of  an  artist's  work,  and 
there  only  citizens  had  a  voice  —  the  slaves  were  ex- 
cluded. Literary  productions  depend  for  their  imme- 
diate popularity  upon  the  reception  they  receive  from 
those  who  constitute  the  first  tribunal  to  which  they  are 
submitted,  and  because  of  the  cost  of  theatrical  repre- 
sentations this  is  especially  the  case  with  a  play.  The 
praise  of  the  few  influences  the  many.  *  Hence  the  im- 
portant part  played  by  cultured  patrons  in  every  bril- 
liant literary  era.    When  the  few  were  scholars  and  gen- 


PREREQUISITES  TO  GREAT  PLAYS        297 

tlemen  great  works  received  recognition  and  their  au- 
thors were  honored  and  encouraged.  When  a  section  of 
the  fourth  estate  arrogated  the  right  to  forestall  the 
judgment  of  audiences  and  readers  a  pernicious  change 
was  begun.  As  the  number  of  professional  reviewers  has 
increased  the  quality  of  literary  works  has  declined. 
Tragedy  has  vanished  from  the  stage  like  a  pleiad  from 
the  firmament. 

A  further  requisite  for  the  production  of  great  plays 
—  efficient  actors  —  need  not  be  enlarged  upon,  for  if 
the  other  conditions  existed,  this  would  soon  be  forth- 
coming. But  the  play  should  be  a  great  moral  agent, 
and  its  instruments  ought  not  to  be  startlingly  defiant 
of  social  conventions,  yet  the  present  preference  for  sen- 
sational productions  and  dramas  which  glorify  the 
wrong-doer  and  the  weakling  is  not  more  characteristic 
than  the  disposition  to  substitute  for  trained  players,  re- 
cruits from  the  ranks  of  the  notorious. 

Nowhere  is  there  any  indication  of  such  conditions  as 
have  in  the  past  preceded  the  production  of  great  literary 
works,  and  if  the  conditions  are  essential  to  the  phenom- 
ena, there  is  no  likelihood  of  any  immediate  era  of  plays 
of  other  than  trivial  and  commonplace  qualities. 

The  elevation  of  a  nation  in  conduct  and  mental  power 
is  possible,  for  to  some  extent  it  has  at  times  been 
achieved,  but  modern  societies  are  averse  to  high  intel- 
lectual training,  the  improvement  of  the  race  is  regarded 
as  of  less  consequence  than  the  personal  gratification  of 
its  present  representatives,  and  the  stoicism  required  in 
the  continued  culture  of  an  individual  or  a  nation,  repels 
a  generation  intent  upon  having  a  good  time.     The  demo- 


298  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

cratizing  trend  everywhere  impelling  to  a  descent  to- 
ward universal  equality  may  reach  that  goal,  and  then 
begin  a  gradual  reascension  to  more  human  conditions, 
but  hitherto,  democracy  has  always  been  a  destroying 
force,  creating  nothing  except  the  necessity  for  a  tyranny 
as  a  stop  to  its  degradations  and  an  escape  from  its  fail- 
ures. 

The  conjunction  of  an  able  plajrvvright  and  a  com- 
petent and  appreciative  audience  may  be  made  ineffec- 
tual by  press  hostility.  The  greatest  literary  artist  of 
the  nineteenth  century  wrote  a  number  of  acting  plays. 
The  critics  ridiculed  and  depreciated  his  every  produc- 
tion. To  gain  a  fair  hearing  it  was  necessary  to  conceal 
the  authorship  of  one,  which  under  the  shelter  of  an- 
onymity achieved  an  immense  popularity.  When  its 
parentage  became  known,  it  was  abused  with  redoubled 
but  ineffectual  fury.  For  four  years  he  persisted,  tri- 
umphing again  and  again.  Having  demonstrated  his 
ability  to  succeed  despite  the  press,  and  not  being  under 
the  necessity  of  subjecting  himself  to  malignant  misrep- 
resentation, he  abandoned  the  field,  although  a  series  of 
works  which  he  considered  the  best  of  his  plays  had 
*  never  been  performed. 

Professional  critics  are  the  most  imitative  of  created 
things;  they  consult  and  copy  what  others  have  said 
about  a  work,  and  the  attitude  adopted  by  the  first  is 
affected  by  the  latest  reviewer.  The  habit  of  abusing 
this  writer  and  his  productions,  initiated  by  a  gang  of 
Alsatians,  has  been  followed  by  every  succeeding  genera- 
tion of  reviewers.    It  had  some  provocation  in  the  polit- 


PREREQUISITES  TO  GREAT  PLAYS        299 

ical  activities  of  its  object.  His  advocacy  of  the  repeal 
of  the  newspaper  stamp  duties,  the  act  which  he  added 
to  the  statutes,  prohibiting  managers  from  appropriating 
without  consent  any  published  drama,  and  his  attacks 
on  the  patents  which  limited  the  number  of  theatres  in 
the  metropolis,  made  him  obnoxious  to  the  owners  of 
established  monopolies,  and  they  availed  themselves  of 
the  chance  to  visit  upon  the  playwright  their  dislike  of 
the  member  of  parliament,  but  this  frenzy  of  vitupera- 
tion had  its  chief  cause  in  the  fact  that  the  author  was  a 
gentleman. 

The  republic  of  letters  is  in  reality  a  congeries  of  tyr- 
annies. Magazines,  periodicals,  and  newspapers  have  ac- 
quired great  power  under  the  pretense  of  the  moral  pur- 
pose of  elevating  the  taste  of  the  public,  but  they  are, 
one  and  all,  commercial  enterprises,  and  neither  authors 
nor  readers  have  any  part  in  their  management.  Their 
morality  and  intellectual  qualities  are  absolutely  gov- 
erned by  considerations  of  revenue,  und  they  favor  or 
traduce  as  one  or  the  other  pays.      '  - 

The  worthlessness  of  professional  reviewals  is  attested 
by  the  fact  that  every  generation  relegates  to  a  deserved 
oblivion  the  critical  pronouncements  of  its  predecessor. 
*' Literary  history  is  a  series  of  judgments  set  aside.'* 

The  fault  is  only  partially  chargeable  against  the  re- 
viewers, who  are  but  instruments  carrying  out  the  wishes 
of  their  employers.  As  conducted  the  thing  itself  is 
wrong,  for  it  is  the  exercise  of  power  without  responsi- 
bility. That  is  the  prerogative  of  devils,  and  men  who 
usurp  a  similar  privilege  grow  devilish  in  the  process. 


300  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

Rulers  who  become  despots  generally  develop  mon- 
strous, vicious,  and  insensate  proclivities,  and  a  corre- 
sponding growth  of  evil  dispositions  shows  itself  in  those 
who  assume  critical  dictatorships  on  however  small  a 
scale.  The  possession  of  power  unaccompanied  by  coun- 
terbalancing responsibility  produces  a  species  of  vertigo 
in  those  who  attain  to  it,  and  their  acts  and  utterances 
are  more  frequently  the  indications  of  disease  than  the 
evidence  of  intellectual  ability. 

The  desire  for  the  unKmited  liberty  of  the  press  is 
just  as  irrational  as  the  demand  for  the  free  use  of  re- 
volvers would  be.  It  is  not  by  such  freedom  that  civil- 
ization advances,  but  by  voluntary  obedience  to  laws  each 
of  which  is  a  limitation  of  liberty.  Murder  might  result 
from  the  free  use  of  revolvers.  A  worse  crime  is  often 
committed  by  the  press,  for  all  must  surrender  life. 
Character  and  reputation  which  might  be  enduring  are 
sometimes  destroyed  by  journals. 

The  lack  of  a  directive  function  in  governments  is  ev- 
idenced by  the  lagging  of  protective  legislation  behind 
the  need  of  it.  The  'Hhou  shalt  nots'*  wisely  promul- 
gated against  the  individual  ought,  long  ago,  to  have 
been  supplemented  by  inhibitions  against  the  wrongful 
acts  of  periodicals  and  corporations,  and  the  punishment 
for  infringing  these  laws  should  be  visited  upon  the 
owners,  not  the  agents  —  the  substance,  not  the  shadow. 

If  the  receiver  of  the  profits  accruing  from  journalistic 
immorality  knew  that  he  would  be  punished  the  practices 
would  cease.  Criticism  would  then  become  gentlemanly 
or  be  abandoned  altogether  —  either  alternative  would  be 


PREREQUISITES  TO  GREAT  PLAYS        301 

an  improvement.  But  as  long  as  the  hurried  work  of 
imperfectly  disciplined  journalists  expressing  the  views 
dictated  by  proprietors  is  influential  in  deciding  the  fate 
of  an  artistes  creation,  there  is  no  greater  possibility  of  a 
series  of  noble  plays  being  produced,  than  would  attend 
the  attempt  to  rear  exotics  in  an  exposed  arctic  climate. 


BULWER'S  CONNECTION  WITH  THE 
STAGE 

HENRY  REEVE  records  that  when  Sheridan 
Knowles  was  introduced  to  Bulwer,  he  said: 
''You,  sir,  lead  a  very  artificial  life;  Shake- 
speare and  I,  sir,  are  the  children  of  Nature. '  ^ 

The  self -magnification  illustrated  by  this  story  is  char- 
acteristic, not  only  of  Knowles  but  of  almost  all  who  have 
written  about  Bulwer  and  his  plays.  Between  Shake- 
speare, Nature,  and  themselves  reviewers  discern  some 
close  affinity,  but  the  author  whose  life,  works,  and  rela- 
tions to  the  men,  measures,  and  circumstances  of  his  time 
present  more  points  of  resemblance  to  Shakespeare  than 
are  to  be  found  elsewhere,  they  consign  to  some  inferior 
category,  and  refer  to  in  pretentiously  patronizing  and 
condescensive  terms. 

Friendly  relations  with  Mr.  Macready,  and  admiration 
for  that  actor  ^s  gallant  attempt  to  advance  his  art,  turned 
Bulwer 's  attention  to  the  stage,  but  the  circumstances  of 
the  time  influenced  the  shaping  of  the  works,  the  selec- 
tion of  effects,  and  even  the  language  in  which  they  were 
expressed. 

Prior  to  1843  the  presentation  of  dramas  in  London 
was  a  privilege  restricted  to  two  theatres,  Drury  Lane 
and  Covent  Garden.  Consequent  upon  the  monopoly 
they  enjoyed  these  houses  were  so  huge  in  size  that  what 


CONNECTION  WITH  THE  STAGE  303 

was  uttered  on  the  stage  was  inaudible  in  some  parts  of 
the  theatre.  Spectacle  was  more  popular  than  poetry, 
and  exhibitions  of  trained  animals  were  more  profitable 
than  plays.  Performances  commenced  at  seven,  people 
were  admitted  at  half  price  at  nine,  and  often  the  en- 
tertainment comprised  three  plays.  When  Money  was 
first  produced,  Foreign  Affairs,  and  The  Boarddng  School 
were  included  in  the  bill,  and  candles  furnished  the  only 
light  at  the  Haymarket  until  1842. 

Mr.  Macready  was  a  great  actor  and  an  accomplished 
scholar,  somewhat  imperious  and  self-opinionated,  jeal- 
ous of  his  prerogatives  as  head  of  his  profession,  and 
afflicted  with  an  ungovernable  temper,  which  caused  him 
much  mortification,  for  he  was  a  pious  man,  and  his 
stormy  ebullitions  were  followed  by  periods  of  deep  hu- 
miliation, contrition,  and  fears  of  divine  wrath  which  his 
prayers  could  not  assuage. 

Ambitious  to  exalt  the  character  of  stage  representa- 
tions, he  gathered  around  him  a  company  of  fairly  com- 
petent players,  gave  admirable  renderings  of  Shake- 
speare's greatest  works,  produced  three  of  Byron's  tra- 
gedies, and  exerted  himself  to  procure  original  composi- 
tions by  contemporary  authors.  He  asked  Bulwer  to 
write  a  play  and  in  response  The  Duchess  de  la  Val- 
liere  was  completed  and  after  extensive  changes,  re- 
ceived its  first  presentation  January  4,  1837. 

Its  symmetry  was  destroyed  by  the  alterations  which 
increased  the  importance  of  the  character  which  Mac- 
ready  assumed.  It  was  dragged  into  a  four  hours'  per- 
formance. And  the  parts  of  Lauzun  and  Louis  XIV 
were  execrably  played.     It  did  not  find  favor  with  the 


304  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

public,  and  it  gave  opportunity  for  much  journalistic 
abuse,  sarcasm,  and  prophecy.  After  nine  performances, 
which  the  manager  wished  to  extend  to  twenty,  it  was 
withdrawn  by  the  author. 

In  publishing  the  play,  the  changes  made  at  Mac- 
ready's  request  were  discarded,  and  Bulwer  recorded 
his  conviction  that  performed  as  written,  but  with  such 
deletions  as  would  reduce  it  to  the  usual  length  of  plays, 
it  could  be  restored  to  the  stage  with  every  prospect  of 
success. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  January,  1838,  The  Lady  of  Ly- 
ons was  produced  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre.  The  ex- 
clamation of  the  troubled  manager  whose  theatrical  ven- 
tures were  causing  anxiety  and  fear  —  *  *  Oh !  if  I  could 
only  get  a  play  like  The  Honey-moon/'  prompted  the 
composition  of  the  work,  which  was  written  in  ten  days, 
and  given  to  Macready,  who,  displeased  that  in  the 
f ourtii  and  fifth  acts  Pauline  overshadows  Melnotte,  and 
dubious  of  its  prospects,  avoided  incurring  expense  over 
it. 

Press  hostility  to  Bulwer  precluded  all  possibility  of 
other  than  dishonest  criticism  of  any  play  by  him,  there- 
fore the  authorship  of  The  Lady  of  Lyons  was  not  con- 
fided to  anyone  but  Macready.  As  the  work  of  an  un- 
known writer  it  achieved  a  marvellous  success. 

On  the  night  of  its  first  presentation,  Bulwer  was  de- 
tained in  the  house  of  commons  by  a  debate  on  reform 
in  which  he  took  part.  Hurrying  away  he  met  Talfourd 
just  come  from  Covent  Garden  and  enquired  about  the 
new  play.  ''Oh!  it's  very  well  for  that  sort  of  thing," 
the  author  of  Ion  replied.    Arrived  at  the  theatre  Bui- 


CONNECTION  WITH  THE  STAGE  305 

wer  entered  Lady  Blessington 's  box,  and  was  presently- 
asked  by  Dickens  what  he  thought  of  The  Lady.  *  *  Oh  1 
it's  very  well  for  that  sort  of  thing,"  he  repeated.  Dick- 
ens expressed  his  astonishment  at  the  lack  of  apprecia- 
tion the  remark  indicated,  and  Lady  Blessington  said  it 
was  the  first  sign  of  jealousy  she  had  seen  in  Bulwer. 
As  soon  a^  its  favor  with  the  public  was  secure,  the  au- 
thor' name  appeared  on  the  playbills. 

Richelieu  was  produced  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre 
March  7,  1839.  The  changes  made  in  compliance  with 
Macready's  suggestions  transformed  the  work.  The 
principal  character  in  the  first  draft  became  the  De 
Mauprat  of  the  play  and  the  Cardinal  was  elaborated 
into  the  important  figure  to  which  all  else  are  subsidiary. 
It  was  abundantly  successful. 

Under  the  title  of  The  Sea  Captain,  the  play  later 
called  The  Heir  of  Montreville,  and  now  known  as  The 
Rightful  Heir,  was  given  its  first  presentation  at  the 
Haymarket  October  31,  1839.  The  actor  required  many 
changes  which  were  made,  and  he  assumed  the  part  of 
the  Heir  and  made  it  the  important  feature  of  the  per- 
formance. The  play  pleased  the  public  and  gratified 
Macready  but  did  not  satisfy  the  author,  who  interrupt- 
ed its  run,  withdrew  and  re-wrote  it.  The  revised  work 
is  more  compact  in  structure,  its  characters  develop 
greater  power  and  distinctness,  and  the  action  is  less 
tumultuous  than  in  the  earlier  version. 

At  the  Haymarket  the  comedy  of  Money  received  its 
initial  presentation  December  8,  1840.  In  this  instance 
whatever  changes  were  made  originated  with  the  author. 
When  he  saw  it  in  rehearsal,  the  interpretation  of  his 


306  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

work  displeased  him  so  greatly  that  he  was  with  difficul- 
ty deterred  from  withdrawing  it,  and  the  manager  had 
to  postpone  the  opening,  drill  his  actors  more  thoroughly 
and  make  many  modifications  in  the  business  of  the 
piece.  Its  sucess  was  as  great  as  that  of  its  predecessors 
and  it  was  played  nightly  until  the  close  of  the  season. 

Macready's  retirement  put  an  end  to  Bulwer's  con- 
nection with  the  stage.  In  1851  he  wrote  a  comedy, 
which  a  distinguished  company  of  amateurs,  including 
Dickens,  Forster,  and  Jerrold,  acted  at  Devonshire  House 
and  elsewhere.  But  in  the  composition  of  Not  so  had  as 
we  Seem,  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  several  players,  and 
their  limited  experience  in  an  unfamiliar  art,  were  kept 
in  view,  the  powers  of  the  actors  were  not  overtaxed,  and 
because  it  made  no  undue  demand  upon  the  abilities  of 
the  ** splendid  strollers"  it  was  effectively  performed. 

Walpole,  a  three-act  comedy  in  rhyme,  was  published 
without  having  been  acted  in  1869.  The  House  of  Darn- 
ley,  an  unfinished  play  with  an  incongruous  fifth  act  by 
Mr.  Coghlan,  was  performed  by  Mr.  Hare's  company  in 
1877,  and  The  Household  Gods  was  produced  by  Mr. 
Wilson  Barrett  in  1885. 

These  works  are  but  a  part  of  the  plays  written  by 
Bulwer.  References  to  Hampden;  Charles  the  First; 
Cromwell;  Brutus;  Oedypus;  and  The  Captives  occur  in 
the  memoirs  of  contemporaries,  and  the  Earl  of  Lytton 
speaks  of  a  series  of  carefully  completed  plays  all  in- 
tended for  the  stage  but  never  acted,  and  therefore  never 
published. 

''The  playwright  should  consult  his  tools,  the  actors," 
says  Goethe,  for  their  practical  knowledge  of  stage-craft 
enables  them  to  estimate  the  eifectiveness  of  groupings 


CONNECTION  WITH  THE  STAGE  307 

and  situations  and  they  can  often  suggest  improving 
changes  in  the  arrangement  and  presentation  of  a  play. 

Bulwer  complied  with  this  condition  and  adapted  his 
compositions  to  the  views  of  Macready,  accepting  crit- 
icism and  making  extensive  changes  even  when  dissent- 
ing from  the  opinion  which  necessitated  them.  A  com- 
parison of  the  plays  as  written,  with  the  versions  made 
to  conform  with  the  manager's  demands,  shows  that  Mac- 
ready's  advice  to  Bulwer  was  invariably  mischievous, 
that  the  actor  lacked  both  nice  perception  of  symmetry 
in  construction  and  apprehension  of  the  delicate  relation 
of  parts  to  the  whole.  Strength  and  power  impressed 
him  more  than  harmonious  composition,  and  though  sen- 
sible of  the  poetic  his  taste  was  faulty.  In  his  produc- 
tion of  King  Lear  he  omitted  the  Fool.  He  misinter- 
preted the  character  of  Sardanapalus  in  his  presentation 
of  Byron's  tragedy,  and  he  erred  repeatedly  in  his  esti- 
mite  of  the  relative  importance  of  the  parts  in  some  of 
Bulwer 's  plays.  But  Macready 's  greatness  in  his  art  is 
evidenced  by  the  fact  that  every  succeeding  actor  has 
copied  his  interpretations  even  when  he  was  wrong. 

A  pardonable  desire  for  self  display,  combined  with 
a  distrust  of  the  abilities  of  his  supporting  company, 
caused  him  to  insist  upon  the  augmentation  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  character  he  elected  to  personate  regard- 
less of  other  considerations,  and  his  phenomenal  ability 
frequently  won  success  for  plays  thus  mutilated.  The 
important  changes  made  by  Bulwer  at  the  request  of 
Macready  were  generally  unwise  and  injurious. 

The  Dtichess  de  la  Valliere  was  mangled,  the  third  act 
being  compressed  into  a  single  scene. 

The  Lady  of  Tjyons  was  not  subjected  to  any  altera- 


308  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

tion,  for  Macready  was  unprescient  of  its  possibilities, 
took  little  trouble  over  its  production,  allowed  it  to  be 
acted  as  written  and  experienced  a  double  surprise  when 
it  proved  popular  and  he  realized  that  it  was  a  gift. 
Later  managers  have  dropped  the  first  scene,  thereby 
omitting  the  display  of  Pauline's  haughtiness,  which  is 
the  provoking  cause  of  Beauseant's  resentment,  and  de- 
priving the  audience  of  that  glimpse  of  the  unamiable 
beauty,  which  prepares  them  for  the  treatment  Mel- 
notte's  messenger  receives. 

Richelieu  was  twice  rewritten,  and  entirely  trans- 
formed under  the  stimulus  of  Macready 's  criticisms  and 
suggestions,  and  the  resulting  play  is  probably  an  im- 
provement on  the  original  design,  although  in  plot  and 
construction  the  work  became  more  tenuous  than  any 
other  of  its  author's  productions. 

The  alterations  in  The  Sea  Captain  enabled  Macready 
to  make  his  part  the  dominant  feature  of  the  perform- 
ance, but  that  distorted  the  work,  for  the  Countess- 
Mother  is  the  greatest  and  most  impressive  character 
and,  properly  personated,  the  Poor  Cousin  would  rival 
the  Captain.  Macready  misjudged  Money  and  instead 
of  carrying  out  the  author's  purpose  and  treating  Sir 
John  Vesey  as  the  master  character,  he  transferred  that 
dignity  to  the  more  amiable  part  of  Alfred  Evelyn, 
which  he  appropriated  but  disliked. 

Of  the  many  playwrights  who  had  dealings  with  Mac- 
ready,  Bulwer  alone  never  resented  his  criticisms  and 
always  respected  his  opinions.  Their  friendship  contin- 
ued through  life.     Macready  was  a  frequent  guest  at 


CONNECTION  WITH  THE  STAGE  309 

Kjiebworth.,  and  Bulwer's  admiration  for  the  Roscius 
of  his  time  never  abated. 

His  experiences,  however,  destroyed  whatever  illusions 
he  may  once  have  had  regarding  the  stage.  He  discour- 
aged his  son's  desire  to  write  plays.  '^It  would  absorb 
and  vulgarize  him.  Its  success  has  no  honor  nor  renown 
and  its  damnation  is  infernal. ' '  To  Sir  William  Fraser, 
who  asked  his  counsel  about  a  contemplated  play,  he 
said,  * '  I  feel  sure  that  you  would  write  a  very  good  com- 
edy. I  feel,  also,  certain  that  you  would  sit  in  the  stalls 
perspiring  with  horror  at  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
played." 


THE  ACTING  PLAY 

A  PLAY  is  a  combination  of  poetry  and  spectacle 
representing  and  explaining  an  event  or  story 
'  which  some  interrupting  incident  complicates  by 
causing  a  conflict  of  passions  in  the  principal  characters 
and  suspending  or  changing  the  indicated  consumma- 
tion. 

It  appeals  to  the  emotions,  not  to  the  intellect. 

The  characters  are  the  most  important  evidences  of 
the  playwright's  creative  ability.  They  should  be  ap- 
prehensible possibilities  but  not  recognizable  familiars, 
and  their  actions  and  development  should  be  conse- 
quences of  the  experiences  to  which  they  are  subjected, 
their  conduct  under  the  changing  circumstances  con- 
forming to  what  is  regarded  as  probable. 

To  secure  attention  to  the  characters  a  play  should 
contain  not  only  a  variety  of  appropriate  and  unusual 
incidents  following  each  other  naturally,  and  each  hav- 
ing some  effect  upon  the  action,  but  also,  situations  em- 
phasizing the  salient  points  of  the  story,  and  providing 
occasion  for  the  manifestation  of  emotions  and  passions, 
under  the  stress  of  which  the  characters  are  developed 
and  the  resulting  consequences  made  to  appear  inevit- 
able. 

Concentration  is  the  imperative  necessity  of  the  play. 
On  the  stage  ''life  is  the  verb  to  do"  and  languor  in  ac- 
tion or  excess  in  speech  becomes  tedious  and  destroys  il- 


THE  ACTING  PLAY  311 

lusion.  Not  only  language  and  incidents,  but  even  events 
must  be  condensed  for  the  sake  of  effectiveness  —  a  duel 
interests,  but  a  battle  only  confuses. 

A  play  addresses  a  large  and  miscellaneous  audience, 
and  gesture  and  movement  accompany  the  spoken  words, 
which  should  be  consistent  with  the  varying  capacities 
of  the  characters  represented,  and  convey  a  meaning 
easily  understood  by  all.  Subtle,  super-refined  and  at- 
tenuated expressions  may  be  properly  used  in  private 
conversation,  or  where  not  the  many  but  the  one  is  ad- 
dressed; to  be  effective  in  plays  the  language  chosen 
must  be  bold,  vigorous,  terse,  and  dignified. 

The  players  join  the  most  fitting  action  of  which  they 
are  capable  to  such  perfect  expression  as  they  can  com- 
mand in  performing  the  parts  assigned  to  them,  avoid- 
ing palpable  imitation,  for  on  the  stage  attitudes,  move- 
ments, utterances,  entrances  and  exits  differ  from  those 
in  actual  life.  Thinking  aloud  —  soliloquizing  —  is  an 
absurdity  off  the  stage ;  there,  it  is  not  only  effective  and 
appropriate  but  conducive  to  rapidity  of  movement,  since 
it  allows  of  the  revealing  of  purposes  and  feelings  in  less 
time  than  would  be  required  for  the  unfolding  of  these 
in  dialogue  and  action. 

The  players  supply  the  physical  qualities  of  the  char- 
acters, and  only  slight  deviations  from  the  normal  can 
be  satisfactorily  assumed ;  and  the  period  of  time  repre- 
sented as  elapsing  in  a  play  must  be  a  restricted  one  to 
allow  of  its  adequate  indication,  because  the  simulation 
of  the  change  in  personal  appearance  resulting  from 
the  passing  of  years,  severely  tasks  the  actors'  skill  in  a 
minor  but  necessary  department. 


312  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

The  purpose  of  a  play  should  be  achieved  by  sugges- 
tion rather  than  by  preachment.  The  results  of  habits 
and  indulgencies,  the  effects  of  passions,  and  the  im- 
portance of  prudence  and  self-control  —  exhibited  in  the 
fates  of  the  characters  represented  —  have  the  superior 
effectiveness  which  example  ever  has  over  precept. 

The  heroic  takes  its  inspiration  from  conduct  tran- 
scending the  ordinary  in  magnanimity  and  grandeur. 
Actions  exceeding  in  ruthlessness  and  selfish  purpose  the 
common  experiences  of  mankind  originate  the  tragic. 
Incongruous  lapses  from  the  normal  in  appearance,  dress, 
or  behavior  produce  the  comic. 

Comedy  leaves  to  the  play  the  heroisms  and  crimes 
which  because  of  their  effects  upon  the  race,  need  serious 
and  impressive  treatment;  and,  taking  for  its  purposes 
the  follies,  vices,  and  affectations  which  are  sins  against 
society,  assumes  the  duty  of  amending  conduct  while 
amusing  the  audiences  it  attracts;  and  by  banter  and 
ridicule  seeks  to  make  unpopular  the  practices  it  selects 
for  satire. 

It  generally  takes  its  illustrations  from  the  generation 
contemporary  with  its  production,  but  it  is  not  debarred 
from  availing  itself  of  whatever  advantage  in  costume 
or  decoration  a  previous  age  may  offer,  nor  are  serious 
situations  and  dialogue  excluded  from  its  means  and 
effects  provided  these  arise  naturally  from  the  progress 
of  the  action.  Its  characters  are  generalizations  from 
many  individuals  fused  into  typical  specimens  of  classes. 
It  is  more  familiar  in  manner  and  less  compact  in  struc- 
ture than  the  play  and  it  makes  use  of  surprise  as  an 
effect. 


THE  ACTING  PLAY  313 

Only  in  the  instances  where  the  obnoxious  propensi? 
ties  or  absurd  peculiarities  which  it  ridicules  perpetu- 
ally recur,  is  comedy  assured  of  more  than  a  transient 
appreciation,  and  it  is  always  subject  to  the  disadvantage 
of  having  its  purpose  of  amendment  lost  sight  of  or  ob« 
scured  because  of  its  more  evident  aim  of  amusement. 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE 

AN  early  episode  in  that  grandiose  epic  of  artifice 
l^L  and  intrigue  —  the  reign  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
-*-  -^ — furnished  the  material  for  the  tragic  play  of 
The  Duchess  de  la  Valliere. 

In  the  flush  of  his  early  successes,  before  glory  had 
palled  or  power  wearied,  the  gracious  and  idolized  Louis 
showed  his  admiration  for  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  court, 
by  promoting  the  young  beauty  who  regretted  that  he 
was  a  king  to  the  position  of  favorite,  and  making  her 
a  duchess. 

The  craving  for  amusement  and  change  which  grew 
with  his  increase  in  importance  and  magnificence  and 
necessitated  the  transference  of  his  court  to  the  more 
imposing  palace  at  Versailles,  after  a  few  years  caused 
the  Grand  Monarque  to  transfer  his  favors  and  atten- 
tion to  the  more  pretentious  Mme.  de  Montespan.  The 
forsaken  La  Valliere  thereupon  took  the  veil  and  as  a 
Carmelite  nun  spent  the  remaining  thirty  years  of  her 
life  in  penance  and  austerities. 

The  play  sets  before  us  glimpses  of  that  dazzling  court 
where  pomp,  pageantry,  ceremonial  obsequiousness  and 
the  adulation  of  all  who  were  distinguished  by  genius  or 
beauty  ministered  to  the  egotism  of  a  prepossessing  and 
generous  king  whose  enviable  personal  advantages  were 
enhanced  by  his  happy  facility  in  uttering  tactful  com- 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  315 

pliments,  but  whose  mental  resources  were  in  pitiable 
contrast  to  the  gorgeousness  of  his  state. 

The  creatures  of  that  court  are  displayed  as  brilliant, 
polished,  but  heartless  schemers  for  place  and  power, 
skilled  in  flattery  and  intrigue,  esteeming  the  privilege 
of  being  near  the  king  as  the  height  of  human  felicity, 
and  regarding  the  world  outside  Versailles  as  rude,  bar- 
barous, and  unworthy.  For  the  rule  of  Louis  the  Four- 
teenth, consummating  the  policy  of  Richelieu,  centralized 
power  and  authority  in  the  king  and  made  him  not  only 
the  fountain  of  honor  but  also  the  dispenser  of  patronage 
and  preferment,  and  the  well-born  who  declined  to  de- 
base themselves  into  courtiers  were  left  without  voca- 
tions, and  as  a  consequence  of  careers  being  denied  to 
all  outside  the  monarch's  silken  circle  active  civic  use- 
fulness ceased  to  animate  men  and  virtue  died  in  women. 
This  evil  of  despotism  is  illustrated  in  the  characters  of  f' 
Mme.  de  Montespan  and  Lauzun.  Beauty  degraded  into 
a  plaything  becomes  wasteful,  conscienceless,  and  flaunt- 
ing. Intellect  deprived  of  opportunity  to  ascend  scin- 
tillates and  corrupts  in  the  dust. 

La  Valliere  endured  the  splendor  to  which  she  had 
been  advanced,  but  retained  a  keen  sense  of  her  equiv- 
ocal position  and  never  became  indifferent  to  the  re- 
proaches her  transgression  deserved.  The  epithet  ten- 
der was  generally  applied  to  her.  A  resigned  sadness 
characterized  her  demeanor,  she  sought  vainly  for  con- 
solation, and  her  real  feelings  were  a  bitter  commentary 
on  the  envy  she  excited.  Her  sacrifice  was  repaid  by 
desertion  and  humiliation,  and  the  cloister  became  a  wel- 
come refuge  to  the  friendless  and  broken-spirited  woman 


316  PLAYS  OF  BULWBR 

to  whom  the  world  had  become  distasteful  because  of  her 
experience  at  Court. 

La  Vallieres  are  by  no  means  rare  in  the  ranks  of 
young  womanhood.  A  propensity  to  regard  self-sacrifice 
as  good  in  itself  irrespective  of  its  motive  is  common  and 
in  some  instances  induces  a  sanguine  belief  that  such  a 
proof  of  devotion  will  ensure  a  lasting  reciprocation  in 
affection,  and  the  results  are  always  disastrous.  Those 
in  whom  the  heart  is  stronger  than  the  head  have  the 
greatest  need  of  the  protection  which  the  conventions  of 
society  have  established  and  in  all  cases  where  these 
usages  are  disregarded  sorrow  and  misery  are  the  conse- 
quences.    This  is  the  warning  lesson  of  this  play. 

Bragelone  is  the  finest  and  greatest  of  the  characters, 
in  him  the  disappearing  old  warrior  nobles  have  a  wor- 
thy representative,  brave,  loyal,  unselfish,  and  sincere, 
his  natural  dignity  and  manliness  brought  into  contact 
with  the  falsely-great  humbles  and  reduces  to  their  pro- 
sper proportions  both  courtier  and  king.  Lauzun  in  his 
I  presence  shrinks  into  an  ignoble  jester,  Louis  is  awed 
into  a  superstitious  trembler.  His  only  weakness  is  his 
ill-placed  affection,  and  it  is  in  conformity  with  the  tra- 
ditions of  his  class  that  when  dishonor  comes  near  him, 
he  sickens  of  the  world  and  adopts  the  cowl  of  the  monk. 
Prompt  in  act,  fearless  and  stem  in  the  discharge  of 
duty,  he  quits  his  military  career  to  assume  a  humbler 
labor,  denounces  the  monarch  for  his  vices,  shows  La 
Valliere  that  to  temporize  is  to  be  dishonest,  and  guides 
and  aids  her  harsh  journey  through  renunciation  to  re- 
pentance. 

Lauzun  has  an  importance  beyond  what  is  disclosed  in 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  317 

his  easy  and  supercilious  progress  among  courtiers  whom 
he  moves  and  uses  and  despises,  for  he  shows  what  al- 
ways happens  to  intellect  when  it  is  constrained  to  min- 
ister to  the  caprices  of  one  instead  of  promoting  the  im- 
provement of  all.  With  capacities  qualifying  him  for 
useful  activity  in  the  state,  the  circumstances  of  his  time 
compel  him  to  be  a  courtier,  dwarf  his  powers  and  restrict 
his  development  until  he  becomes  indifferent  to  all  that 
is  high  and  ennobling,  scornful  of  virtue  and  content  to 
gratify  his  vanity  by  sarcasm,  scheme,  and  petty  tri- 
umphs over  insignificant  rivals  who  nevertheless  are  able 
to  irritate  and  thwart  him. 

The  interest  of  the  work  is  a  consequence  of  the  al- 
ternation of  passions  and  mental  struggles,  love  and  con- 
science are  in  perpetual  conflict  in  La  Valliere,  and  loy- 
alty contends  with  the  sense  of  wrong  in  Bragelone.  The 
strongest  scene  is  that  between  king  and  monk,  the  ef- 
fective situations  are  at  the  close  of  the  second  act  and 
at  the  end  of  the  play.  The  catastrophe  —  the  self  bur- 
ial of  a  young  and  beautiful  woman  —  is  singularly  awe- 
inspiring  and  impressive. 

The  play  opens  at  the  La  Valliere  home,  an  old  cha- 
teau surrounded  by  vineyards  and  woods,  near  a  river 
which  reflects  the  setting  sun,  and  neighboring  a  convent 
the  turrets  of  which  are  visible  in  the  distance.  Mother 
and  daughter  are  having  their  last  evening  together  for 
on  the  morrow  Louise  goes  to  the  court.  Bragelone,  her 
betrothed,  enters,  war  calls  him  again,  and  he  will  not 
have  to  linger  forlorn  amidst  the  gloom  her  absence  will 
cause.  Their  years  are  scarce  w^ell-mated,  the  soft  spring 
in  hers  and  o  'er  his  summer  already  autumn  creeps,  but 


318  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

her  sire  betrothed  them,  his  heart  has  never  wandered, 
and  in  her  youth  he  hoards  his  own.  And  so  well  he 
loves  that  if  her  heart  recoils  from  their  union  she  need 
but  speak  and  his  suit  will  be  dumb.  She  believes  him 
the  noblest  of  France's  chivalry,  has  pride  in  his  friend- 
ship, honor  in  his  trust,  but  her  heart  whispers  not  the 
love  which  should  be  the  answer  to  his,  and  wishing 
neither  to  pain  nor  deceive  him  she  asks  him  to  forget 
her.  He  finds  that  his  soul  is  less  heroic  than  he  deemed 
it.  He  cannot  accept  this  dismissal,  he  will  be  content 
to  love  and  wait,  absence  will  plead  his  cause,  the  con- 
trast between  the  courtier-herd  and  one  faithful  to  God, 
to  glory  and  to  her,  will  be  in  his  favor  and  he  will  await 
the  time  when  she  will  bid  him  not  forget  her. .  At  the 
behest  of  her  mother  Louise  places  her  scarf  round 
Bragelone's  hauberk,  bidding  him  wear  it  for  the  sake 
of  one  who  honors  worth,  and  with  restored  hope  the  sol- 
dier departs. 

Bertrand  in  the  armory  of  the  Castle  of  Bragelone 
is  polishing  a  sword,  a  trenchant  blade  not  of  the  mod- 
em fashion  and  therefore  appropriate  for  his  lord. 
There  is  a  notch  in  it  which  he  would  not  grind  out,  for 
it  marks  the  stroke  received  when  Bragelone  saved  the 
king.  The  warrior  gladdens  his  old  servitor  by  telling 
him  that  after  this  campaign  they  will  find  some  nook 
wherein  to  hang  their  idle  mail  and  rest  from  labor,  and 
he  charges  Bertrand  to  train  the  woodbine  around  the 
western  wing  of  the  castle  because  she  loves  it. 

In  an  antechamber  at  Fontainebleau  'Lauzun  and 
Grammont  converse  about  the  court's  new  beauty  and 
Lauzun  begins  plans  for  profiting  by  what  he  foresees 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  319 

will  be  the  result  of  La  Valliere  's  innocent  fancy  for  the 
king. 

The  next  scene  is  at  night  in  the  gardens,  which  are 
brilliantly  illuminated.  The  king  enters,  followed  by 
his  retinue.  To  Lauzun  he  expresses  his  interest  in  the 
youngest  of  the  graces,  fair  La  Valliere,  and  learns  that 
in  himself  this  young  Dian  sees  the  embodiment  of  her 
girlish  dreams.  While  they  converse  La  Valliere  and 
other  maids  of  honor  are  seen  approaching,  and  monarch 
and  duke  hide  in  one  of  the  bosquets.  As  the  ladies  pass, 
the  king  emerges,  takes  La  Valliere 's  hand,  owns  that  he 
has  overheard  her  and  prays  that  she  will  not  divorce  the 
thought  of  love  from  him  who,  faithful  still  to  glory, 
swears  that  her  heart  is  the  fairest  world  a  king  could 
conquer.  Beseeching  him  to  forget  her,  protesting  that 
she  is  but  a  simple  girl  who  loves  her  king  but  honor 
more,  La  Valliere  leaves  him,  his  passion  inflamed  by  her 
modest  coyness. 

The  queen  and  her  guests  enter,  and  as  a  prelude  to 
the  banquet  a  divertisement  to  shame  the  lottery  of  life 
is  begun,  the  pavilion  opens  and  discovers  a  temple  with 
Fortune  enthroned  in  the  centre  and  on  each  side  a  vase 
over  one  of  which  merit  presides  and  over  the  other 
honor.  The  guests  draw  lots  from  merit  which  are  ex- 
changed for  gifts  from  fortune.  The  king  draws  and 
receives  a  diamond  bracelet,  which  he  clasps  upon  La 
Valliere.  The  court  ladies  utter  depreciating  comments 
upon  the  new  favorite. 

The  second  act  begins  in  the  gardens.  Disquieting 
rumors  have  reached  Bragelone,  who  has  left  the  camp 
and  sped  hither.     He  will  not  even  suspect  La  Valliere, 


320  ,  PLAYS  OF  BULWBR 

but  he  may  warn  and  protect  her.  Lauzun  in  reply  to 
his  questions  confirms  the  evil  reports,  rouses  Bragelone  's 
anger,  is  disarmed  and  forced  to  retire.  La  Valliere  en- 
ters seeking  the  king.  The  soldier  recalls  to  her  the 
maid  he  loved,  now  advanced  to  too  high  a  position  for 
shame,  and  become  the  object  of  courtiers'  envy.  She  de- 
clares the  aspersions  false  and  regrets  that  she  came  to 
court.  Bragelone  denounces  the  ungrateful  monarch  but 
is  interrupted  by  her  exclamations,  and  her  agitation 
makes  it  plain  that  she  loves  Louis.  Bragelone  describes 
the  ideal  she  had  always  embodied  to  him,  the  regard  in 
which  he  had  held  her,  the  indulged  hopes  now  over- 
thrown. To  lose  her  he  could  bear,  but  with  his  hopes 
he  loses  all  confidence  in  virtue  and  is  sick  at  heart. 
She  pleads  with  him  to  advise  and  help  her  and  be  still 
the  friend.  She  can  fly  from  the  dangers  of  the  court  to 
her  mother.  He  answers  that  the  king  can  reach  her  there, 
and  that  if  she  earnestly  desires  to  fly  from  gorgeous  in- 
famy to  tranquil  honor  the  convent  alone  can  shelter  her. 
But  she  shrinks  from  the  thought  of  the  cloister  where 
she  would  nevermore  meet  those  eyes  nor  hear  that  voice, 
and  Bragelone  asks  her  to  take  back  her  scarf  since  this 
gift  is  worthless  now,  and  turns  to  depart.  She  begs  that 
she  may  see  the  king  but  once,  after  which  she  will  seek 
the  convent.  The  soldier  warns  her  that  heaven  will  ac- 
cept no  such  composition  —  vice  first  and  virtue  after- 
ward ;  he  bids  her  think  of  her  mother,  and  La  Valliere, 
weak  when  she  loves,  shows  that  proportioned  to  that 
weakness  is  her  power  to  conquer  love,  and  bids  him  take 
her  hence. 

Lauzun  is  receiving  rewards  from  his  monarch  when 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  321 

Grammont  enters  and  announces  the  flight  of  the  duch- 
ess. Louis  is  roused;  he  will  tolerate  no  interference 
with  his  desires,  he  will  reclaim  La  Valliere.  Who 
stands  between  the  king  and  her  he  loves  becomes  a  trai- 
tor and  may  find  a  tyrant. 

In  the  chapel  of  a  convent  La  Valliere  kneels  before  a 
crucifix.  It  is  night,  and  a  storm  is  raging,  the  thunder 
and  lightning  without  less  fearful  than  the  tempest  and 
war  of  passion  within.  A  trumpet  sounds,  the  clatter  of 
steeds  is  heard  and  the  opening  of  the  great  gates  which 
are  only  unbarred  for  royalty.  The  king  enters.  La 
Valliere  begs  him  to  be  merciful  and  leave  her.  The  ab- 
bess seeks  to  protect  her  charge  but  Louis  claims  the 
right  free  and  alone  to  commune  with  the  maiden  whose 
pleadings  fail  before  his  protestations.  She  loves;  who 
loves  trusts,  and  to  his  entreaties  and  promises  she  yields 
and  is  borne  from  the  convent. 

The  third  act  has  its  early  scenes  in  the  palace  of  the 
duchess  de  la  Valliere.  A  few  years  have  changed  both 
circumstances  and  feelings.  Lauzun  has  developed  lev- 
ity, and  become  more  selfish.  La  Valliere  has  changed 
from  the  girl  who  anticipated  a  glad  and  ennobling  fu- 
ture, to  the  woman  who  has  experienced  the  world's  fa- 
vors and  found  them  apples  of  sodom,  and  Louis  from 
the  promise  of  Fontainebleau  has  grown  into  the  Grand 
Monarque,  wearied  with  himself,  burdened  with  his  own 
glory,  and  vainly  desiring  relief  from  ennui.  Lauzun 
has  not  won  the  power  he  looked  for  from  the  favorite's 
friendship  and  therefore  he  is  plotting  with  a  more  pli- 
ant rival,  Mme.  de  Montespan.  The  second  scene  dis- 
closes Louis  and  La  Valliere  at  chess.    In  the  mimic  as 


322  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

in  the  real  war  he  proves  victor,  but  his  brow  is  less 
serene  than  usual,  and  he  accounts  for  his  gloom  by  the 
news  just  received  that  France  has  lost  a  subject  kings 
might  well  mourn,  one  who  merited  all  favor  and  scorned 
to  ask  the  least,  the  brave  Bragelone.  La  Valliere's  agi- 
tation and  distress  arouse  the  king's  curiosity  and  re- 
plying to  his  questions  she  tells  him  of  their  early  be- 
trothal, blames  herself  for  his  death,  and  begs  permission 
to  retire.  Louis  regards  this  manifestation  of  sorrow  for 
another  as  a  personal  affront;  he  desires  diversion,  not 
tears,  in  the  bower ;  he  is  displeased  that  another  had  her 
first  love  and  perceives  that  the  hours  grow  long  when 
passed  in  her  presence,  that  sighs  and  tears  make  a  dull 
interlude  in  passion's  short-lived  drama,  and  that  he 
needs  amusement,  therefore  he  will  seek  Lauzun,  who 
never  causes  yawning.  The  duchess  returns  to  assure 
the  king  that  henceforth  she  will  keep  sad  thoughts  for 
lonely  hours,  but  finds  he  has  gone,  and  she  entrusts  her 
friend  Mme.  de  Montespan  with  a  letter  to  his  majesty, 
acquaints  her  with  the  cause  of  the  king's  displeasure, 
and  asks  her  to  explain  and  promise  that  sad  news  shall 
not  again  mar  the  music  of  his  presence.  De  Montespan 
uses  her  opportunity  and  information  as  steps  to  her  own 
advancement  and  in  discharging  her  mission  supplants 
La  Valliere. 

The  fifth  scene  is  at  the  palace  at  Versailles.  The 
queen  slights  the  favorite,  and  De  Montespan  gives  evi- 
dence of  her  newly  acquired  influence.  The  king,  con- 
versing with  the  duchess,  puts  aside  her  plea  for  for- 
giveness with  the  remark  that  wounded  feeling  is  not 
displeasure,  and  commends  her  friend  De  Montespan,  to 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  323 

whose  side  he  presently  moves.  Lauzun  approaches  La 
Valliere  and  directs  her  attention  to  the  favor  with  which 
the  king  is  honoring  her  friend.  The  duchess  is  per- 
turbed, thinks  he  cannot  mean  evil,  yet  he  lingers,  he 
whispers,  and  she  is  unhappy.  The  king  announces  a 
repetition  of  the  fetes  of  the  carousal  and  La  Valliere 
takes  heart  again,  for  there  he  wore  her  colors,  though 
she  gave  them  not;  now  she  offers  them  but  his  majesty's 
service  is  vowed  elsewhere.  Lauzun 's  timely  counsel  to 
give  the  envious  crowd  no  triumph  enables  La  Valliere 
to  bear  without  disclosing  how  acutely  she  feels  the  hurt 
and  shame  of  her  betrayal. 

The  fourth  act  has  its  opening  in  the  gardens  of  Ver- 
sailles. Lauzun  is  embarrassed  by  debts  which  he  plans 
to  discharge  while  further  advancing  himself  by  mar- 
riage with  La  Valliere,  and  he  prays  the  king  to  sanc- 
tion his  suit.  Louis,  disbelieving  in  the  possibility  of 
one  who  shrank  from  him  wedding  the  wildest  lord  that 
ever  laughed  at  virtue,  permits  him  to  go  and  prove  his 
fortune,  but  his  jealousy  is  aroused.  Lauzun  knows  the 
sex,  is  wise  and  witty.  Marriage  would  be  a  balm  to 
conscience  and  an  excuse  for  change,  and  therefore  best 
for  both ;  yet  still  the  king  is  curious  and  wonders  will 
she  accept  him. 

La  Valliere  in  an  apartment  of  her  palace,  unwilling- 
ly realizing  that  the  king  prefers  another,  muses  on  the 
sacrifices  she  has  made  —  and  their  reward.  Her  mother 
sleeps  the  long  sleep  and  it  is  hard  to  be  alone  on  earth ; 
despair  has  taken  the  place  of  hope,  and  the  world  is 
hateful.  Lauzun  is  announced  and  she  anticipates  news 
of  the  king,  but  as  he  proceeds  to  inform  her  that  Louis 


324  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

would  fain  see  her  link  her  lot  with  one  whose  affection 
would  be  her  shelter,  and  has  permitted  his  suit  and  bade 
him  prosper,  her  disappointment  crushes  her,  she  sinks 
down  and  covers  her  face,  to  every  entreaty  of  Lauzun 
she  can  only  murmur  ''he  bade  thee  prosper,"  she  will 
not  subject  the  duke  to  the  debasement  of  being  refused 
by  one  at  once  fallen  and  forsaken,  and  she  leaves  him. 

Bragelone  in  the  habit  of  a  Franciscan  friar  seeks 
audience  with  the  duchess,  tells  her  of  the  soldier-lover 
who  pardoned  her  desertion  but  sunk  at  what  he  termed 
dishonor  and  sends  back  by  him  the  token  he  had  once 
so  gladly  worn.  La  Valliere  interrupts  him ;  in  the  tone 
of  his  voice  and  in  his  presence  she  detects  something 
kindred  to  Bragelone.  He  proclaims  himself  the  brother, 
of  whom  she  had  doubtless  heard,  who  early  tired  of  the 
garish  world,  fled  to  the  convent's  shade  and  found  re- 
pose. Then  she  calls  upon  him  to  be  what  Bragelone 
would  be  were  he  living,  a  friend  to  one  most  friendless, 
and  beseeches  him  to  counsel  and  guide  her.  Continu- 
ing his  narrative  he  acquaints  her  of  her  mother's  last 
hours,  watched  over  by  Bragelone,  who  by  invoking  ten- 
derer remembrances  won  a  blessing  on  her  child  instead 
of  the  meditated  curse.  La  Valliere  can  bear  no  more ; 
heartbroken  she  rushes  from  the  room. 

The  king  is  heard  approaching.  Bragelone 's  hand 
mechanically  seeks  the  sword  he  no  longer  wears.  Louis 
enters  and  there  ensues  an  intense  and  powerful  denun- 
ciation of  the  monarch's  acts,  his  deeds  are  recounted  in 
terms  very  different  from  those  used  by  courtiers  and 
cardinals.  To  the  humble  minister  of  God,  Louis  the 
great  is  one  who  has  betrayed  his  trust,  beggared  a  na- 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALLIERE  325 

tion  but  to  bloat  a  court,  seen  in  men's  lives  the  pastime 
to  ambition,  looked  but  on  virtue  as  the  toy  for  vice. 
The  king  bids  him  add  to  the  beadroll  of  his  offenses  that 
when  a  foul-mouthed  monk  assumed  the  rebel  the  mon- 
ster-king forgave  him,  but  is  told  that  his  changing  hue 
belie  his  haughty  words  and  is  called  upon  to  awaken 
from  the  dream  that  earth  was  made  for  kings,  mankind 
for  slaughter,  woman  for  lust,  the  people  for  the  palace. 
The  fate  of  Charles  of  England  may  await  a  descendant 
of  Louis,  and  when  sages  trace  back  the  causes  they  may 
find  the  seeds  which  grew  to  the  tree  from  which  the 
scaffold  was  shaped,  in  the  wars,  pomp,  and  profusion 
of  a  heartless  court,  Bragelone  leaves  the  king  awed 
and  disconcerted  and  striving  to  justify  himself  to  him- 
self. Impatience  to  know  how  Lauzun  had  fared  in  his 
wooing  had  prompted  the  visit  of  the  king,  and  now  re- 
covering from  the  fear  and  surprise  of  his  interview  with 
the  monk  he  calls  for  wine  and  bids  the  duchess  be  ap- 
prised of  his  presence.  When  Louis  avows  his  wish  that 
La  Valliere  should  wed  she  promises  to  obey  him,  her 
choice  will  be  a  nobler  one  than  Lauzun,  but  not  yet 
shall  he  learn  it.  The  king  departs  and  the  monk  is 
summoned  to  guide  her  back  to  peace. 

The  fifth  act  opens  with  De  Montespan,  Grammont, 
and  courtiers  in  the  garden  of  Versailles  discussing  La 
Valliere 's  departure  for  the  convent,  and  the  failure  of 
Lauzun  to  repair  his  fortune  by  marriage  with  the  de- 
serted favorite.  De  Montespan,  exasperated  by  this 
tribute  to  her  rival,  threatens  to  use  her  influence  to 
Lauzun 's  injury.  In  the  old  home  La  Valliere,  accom- 
panied by  Bragelone,  is  regretfully  recalling  her  former 


326  PLAYS  OF  BULWBR 

happiness,  her  mother's  fondness  and  her  lover's  affec- 
tion. To  the  expression  of  her  yearning  for  pardon  from 
Bragelone  he  responds  by  disclosing  himself  and  ex- 
plaining the  reasons  for  the  course  he  had  pursued. 
With  one  murder  less  upon  her  soul  La  Valliere  has  no 
further  dread  of  the  cloister.  The  fourth  scene  takes 
place  in  the  convent  of  the  carmelites.  Louis  would  pre- 
vent La  Valliere  from  becoming  a  nun  and  has  sent 
Lauzun  in  advance  of  himself  to  delay  the  ceremony. 
De  Montespan  accosts  Lauzun  and  receives  the  king's 
letter  of  dismissal  from  the  court.  The  sixth  scene  is  in 
the  chapel  of  the  carmelites  with  the  service  of  renuncia- 
tion which  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  king, 
who  forbids  the  rites.  He  is  confronted  by  Bragelone, 
but  La  Valliere  descends  from  the  altar  and  listens  to 
Louis's  entreaties  and  promises,  without  being  moved 
from  her  purpose.  The  king  has  dismissed  her  rival  and 
will  know  no  other  love,  and  though  he  was  never  more 
dear  to  her,  she  remains  firm.  For  Louis  she  left  in- 
nocence ;  she  now  leaves  Louis  for  heaven.  Her  heart  is 
the  nun  already.  Unmanned,  reproaching  himself  as 
the  cause  of  her  self-immolation,  and  overcome  with  emo- 
tion, the  king  receives  his  victim 's  last  farewell  and  de- 
parts. The  ceremony  proceeds  and  at  last  her  bridal 
robes  are  exchanged  for  the  garments  of  the  sisterhood. 
La  Valliere  approaches  Bragelone  and,  kneeling,  asks 
him  to  bless  her  who  as  the  poor  nun  is  less  unhappy 
than  as  the  Duchess  de  la  Valliere. 


'^"> 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS 

THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  is  an  unpretentious  play 
depicting  the  very  commonest  of  emotional  con- 
flicts but  presenting  these  vividly  and  under  con- 
ditions which  touch  the  chords  of  memory  and  unseal 
the  fount  of  sjnnpathy.  Its  embodiments  of  beauty  and 
strength  in  the  glow,  vanity,  and  egotism  of  youth  are 
little  removed  from  ordinary  characters  except  by  their 
eloquence,  until  their  relative  position  of  injurer  and  in- 
jured is  reversed.  Then  the  steadfast  resolution  with 
which  the  discipline  of  duty  as  perceived  by  each  is  ac- 
cepted, and  the  constancy  maintained  under  trial,  lift 
both  to  the  heroic. 

The  play  is  a  glorification  of  love  —  not  the  frantic 
fever  to  which  Bichat  allotted  a  duration  of  two  years, 
but  the  transforming  influence  which  awakens  dormant 
capacities  and  high  resolves  and  dignifies  through  pa- 
tience, devotion,  and  discipline.  Here  that  power  changes 
a  haughty  and  unamiable  girl  into  a  trustful  and  for- 
giving woman :  causes  a  peasant  to  become  an  enthusiast 
for  self -improvement  in  the  romantic  hope  that  one  above 
him  in  fortune  will  deign  to  accept  his  hand,  and  after 
insult  has  provoked  him  to  an  unworthy  revenge  leads 
him  to  atone  for  the  wrong  by  self-denial  and  exile,  and 
then  advances  him  to  equality  with  the  woman  whose 
grace  inspired  his  early  efforts,  whose  memory  sweetened 
his  later  toils. 


328  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

The  plot  was  suggested  by  a  tale  called  The  Bellows 
MeTider.  It  is  the  story  of  a  proud  young  beauty  who 
rejects  the  addresses  of  two  suitors  because  they  are  not 
of  sufficiently  important  station,  and  marries  one  whom 
they  impose  upon  her  in  the  disguise  of  a  prince,  who  is 
really  a  peasant  whom  her  disdain  has  embittered  and  en- 
raged. But  because  the  gardener 's  son  loves  the  haughty 
maiden  and  discovers  that  she  is  less  heartless  than  he 
had  believed,  he  repents  of  his  misdeed  and  seeks  to  re- 
pair it  by  restoring  her  to  her  parents.  Her  anger  at 
the  fraud  practiced  upon  her  gives  way  to  admiration 
of  his  earnestness.  His  contrition  and  self -blame  move 
her  pity,  he  has  won  her  heart,  and  because  of  his  devo- 
tion and  generosity  she  elects  to  remain  with  him  and 
sacrifice  her  pride.  He,  however,  desiring  to  deserve 
her  preference  and  regain  his  own  self-respect,  makes 
separation  inevitable  by  joining  the  army,  and  she  re- 
turns to  her  father 's  house.  After  two  and  a  half  years, 
during  which  he  has  won  wealth  and  promotion,  he 
comes  back  in  time  to  prevent  a  marriage  with  one  of  the 
old  suitors  which  she  is  about  to  contract  as  a  means  of 
saving  her  father  from  bankruptcy.  He  discharges  all 
obligations,  reclaims  his  bride,  and  is  welcomed  into  the 
family  which  formerly  resented  his  pretentions. 

Pauline,  an  embodiment  of  modem  middle-class  fem- 
ininity, inherits  from  her  mother  disdain  for  her  own 
class,  extravagant  ambition  and  excessive  pride,  and 
these  faults  are  nourished  by  the  admiration  her  beauty 
excites  and  the  deference  her  father's  wealth  commands. 
Of  duty  she  has  only  an  indefinite  and  vague  apprehen- 
sion.    She  has  no  instinct  of  race  and  therefore  finds 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  329 

gratification  in  humiliating  others;  no  nobility  of  mind, 
consequently  neither  incentive  to  usefulness  nor  enthusi- 
asm for  worthy  achievement.  Physical  beauty  unrefined 
by  moral  perception  or  intellectual  culture,  and  her 
father's  wealth,  she  regards  as  title-deeds  to  high  rank 
and  position,  and  to  marry  a  prince  is  a  sufficient  object 
in  life. 

Her  pride  is  crushed  when  she  finds  herself  the  victim 
of  a  mortifying  indignity,  but  when  she  discovers  that 
tenderness,  eloquence,  and  magnanimity  exist  elsewhere 
than  among  the  wealthy,  the  knowledge  that  a  strong 
man  loves  her  awakens  appreciation  and  she  desires  to 
equal  his  unselfishness,  relinquish  luxury,  and  descend 
to  her  husband's  station.  The  self-denial  which  pre- 
vented this  sacrifice  completes  the  conquest  of  her  pride, 
makes  constancy  a  religion  and  reunion  a  hope.  The 
threatened  ruin  of  her  family  constrains  her  to  desert 
her  trust,  but  it  also  ennobles  her  character,  for  unwil- 
lingly she  complies  with  the  demand  of  a  higher  duty, 
and  at  the  moment  of  doom  her  woe  is  changed  to  joy. 

Claude  Melnotte  watched  the  growing  beauty  of  Paul- 
ine as  she  moved  among  the  flowers  in  the  gardens  where 
he  worked,  and  for  qualities  which  his  fondness  attrib- 
uted to  her  in  profuse  abundance  he  worshiped  from 
afar.  His  exalted  estimate  of  her  goodness  and  kindli- 
ness impelled  him  to  efforts  in  self -culture  and  the  ac- 
quirement of  accomplishments  which  distinguish  him 
from  his  class  in  speech,  appearance,  and  deportment. 
Frank,  vivacious,  and  enthusiastic,  a  favorite  of  all  and 
the  pride  and  comfort  of  his  mother,  he  nurses  a  poet's 
dream,  and  puts  a  soldier's  confidence  in  its  fulfillment. 


>  -^  ^' 

A- 

)j^       330  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

The  contempt  with  which  his  verses  are  rejected  awakens 
a  desire  for  revenge,  and  in  his  anger  he  becomes  the  in- 
strument by  which  his  rivals  seek  to  disgrace  the  beauty 
of  Lyons.  He  plays  the  part  of  prince  successfully,  is 
ready  in  speech,  profuse  in  gifts  and  exuberant  in  inven- 
tion. He  captivates  Pauline  and  then  learns  that  in 
seeking  to  punish  a  girl's  ambition  by  ridicule  he  has 
treacherously  won  a  woman's  heart.  The  enormity  of 
his  offense  overwhelms  him,  he  would  fain  retreat  and 
spare  her  the  shame  and  himself  the  sin  of  his  fraud. 
Forced  to  carry  out  the  letter  of  his  oath,  his  audacity 
and  confidence  desert  him,  he  can  no  longer  exult  in 
what  seemed  a  deserved  retaliation,  and  with  heavy 
heart,  in  bitter  sorrow,  he  conducts  his  bride  to  his 
mother's  home,  confesses  that  he  has  tricked  and  duped 
her,  and  that  he  is  the  gardener's  son.  But  her  love  is 
her  salvation.  She  shall  be  freed  from  the  bondage 
fraudulently  put  upon  her,  his  mother  will  protect  her 
until  her  parents  are  brought,  and  he  will  assume  all 
blame  and  bear  all  punishment.  He  discourages  her  evi- 
dent willingness  to  forgive  and  accept  him  as  husband, 
for  he  is  undeserving,  and  he  wishes  to  save  her  from 
suffering,  therefore  he  becomes  really  what  he  has  al- 
ways been  in  idea,  a  soldier.  He  goes  to  the  wars,  strives 
manfully  to  redeem  his  name  and  make  himself  less  un- 
worthy of  her  regard,  and  in  time  succeeds  and  consum- 
mates a  union  in  which  there  is  no  longer  any  shame. 

Pauline's  beauty  charms  and  her  wrongs  enlist  sym- 
pathy, but  Melnotte  is  the  finer  character,  and  the  fiuc- 
tuations  in  his  feelings  are  more  varied  and  morally  in- 
teresting.    She  is  first  a  luxurious  girl,  infatuated  with 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  331 

titles,  then  the  woman  who  loves  but  once  and  forever, 
then  the  deceived  victim,  indignant  but  forgiving,  then 
the  devoted  bride  reluctantly  parting  from  one  more  be- 
loved because  of  his  guilt,  and  lastly,  the  dutiful  daugh- 
ter sacrificing  all  her  hopes  and  happiness. 

He  from  the  wondering  boy  grows  into  aspiring  youth, 
indulging  an  extravagant  fancy  and  building  upon  its 
realization.  Stung  by  contempt  when  he  anticipated 
responsive  admiration,  he  becomes  angry  and  unjust  and 
conspires  to  punish  her  whose  contumely  he  construes 
into  insult.  He  exults  in  his  masquerade  as  prince  and 
wooer  until  he  finds  that  the  man  and  not  the  title  has 
won  her  affection.  Then  the  shame  he  designed  for  her 
recoils  upon  himself  and  his  suffering  is  intensified  by 
her  undreamed-of  gentleness.  Contrite,  repentant,  and 
determined  to  redeem  his  name,  he  welcomes  the  oppor- 
tune offer  of  a  soldier's  career  and  in  action  wins  fame 
and  promotion.  When  his  purse  disconcerts  his  rival, 
his  happiness  begins.  He  regains  the  wife  whose  love  he 
won  by  guile,  but  her  respect  has  been  earned  by  deeds. 

Few  plays  have  exerted  as  much  influence  as  The 
Lady  of  Lyons.  Many  a  merchant's  daughter,  inspired 
by  the  example  of  Pauline,  has  bought  with  her  father's 
wealth  the  title  under  which  some  spurious  creature 
masqueraded  the  while  he  exhibited  a  knowledge  of  no- 
bility curiously  like  that  of  Melnotte,  combining  prodi- 
gality in  expenditure,  parsimony  in  truthfulness,  con- 
versational audacity,  and  a  facility  in  representing  him- 
self as  of  importance. 

The  play  opens  in  the  merchant's  house.     Pauline  is 


332  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

reclining  on  a  sofa,  her  maid  under  her  mother 's  instruc- 
tions is  arranging  flowers  in  her  hair.  Beauseant  is  an- 
nounced. Pauline's  attractions  outshining  all  at  last 
night 's  ball  have  made  him  desire  her  as  wife  and  he  pro- 
poses for  her  hand.  He  is  disdainfully  rejected  and 
after  he  has  gone  the  mother  congratulates  her  daughter 
on  the  judicious  condescension  with  which  she  declined 
the  offer.  Damas  enters,  rallies  Pauline  on  her  last 
night's  triumphs  and  on  the  effect  of  her  charms  on 
Glavis  and  Beauseant.  The  mother  snubs  the  soldier  and 
tells  him  that  such  as  these  are  no  match  for  her  daugh- 
ter. 

Beauseant  drives  a  few  leagues  into  the  country  to 
dissipate  his  chagrin,  and  meets  Glavis  at  a  village  inn. 
Accounting  for  his  preoccupation  he  confesses  that  he 
has  been  refused  by  Pauline,  a  tradesman's  daughter, 
and  learns  that  Glavis  has  had  the  same  experience. 
They  are  startled  by  shouts  of  ''Long  live  the  prince," 
and  the  landlord  explains  that  Melnotte,  who  has  just 
won  the  prize  in  the  shooting-match,  is  always  called 
prince  because  he  is  a  genius,  wears  fine  clothes,  is  brave 
and  strong  and  has  such  a  proud  way  with  him.  The 
landlord  further  confides  to  his  guests  that  Melnotte  is 
in  love  with  the  beauty  of  Lyons,  though  he  has  never 
spoken  to  her.  Beauseant  at  once  conceives  a  plan  to 
humble  Pauline  by  introducing  this  fictitious  prince  un- 
der some  foreign  title  and  bringing  about  a  marriage. 

Melnotte  shows  his  prize  to  his  mother.  It  is  another 
stage  in  the  ambition  to  be  worthier  to  love  Pauline.  She 
wears  the  flowers  he  sends  anonymously  and  that  has 
encouraged  him  to  pour  his  worship  into  poetry  and  send 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  333 

the  signed  verses  to  her,  and  he  anticipates  that  she  will 
return  an  answer  bidding  him  advance  himself  and  hope. 
Then  he  will  become  a  soldier,  make  headway,  win  fame 
and  come  back  with  the  right  to  approach  her.  Gaspar, 
his  messenger,  has  had  the  letter  he  conveyed  contemptu- 
ously returned  and  he  has  been  beaten  for  his  impudence 
in  presenting  it.  Melnotte  in  anger  tears  the  letter  and 
is  voicing  his  indignation  at  the  insult  put  upon  him, 
when  a  message  from  Beauseant  is  delivered,  offering  to 
secure  the  realization  of  his  hopes  if  he  will  swear  to 
marry  her  he  loves  and  bear  her  to  his  cottage  on  his 
wedding  night.  Eager  to  return  scorn  for  scorn  Mel- 
notte accepts  the  proposition. 

In  the  second  act  Beauseant  and  Glavis  in  the  gardens 
of  the  merchant  are  felicitating  themselves  on  the  suc- 
cess of  their  plot,  grumbling  at  their  prince's  extrava- 
gance and  scheming  to  bring  affairs  to  the  desired  finish 
quickly  lest  some  interference  bring  about  discovery. 

Melnotte  as  the  prince  of  Como  evidences  his  readi- 
ness, exuberance,  and  generosity  by  turning  the  soldier 's 
pronunciation  of  Italian  (which  he  does  not  understand) 
into  ridicule,  and  giving  away  with  unconcern  a  ring 
and  a  snuffbox,  both  of  great  value.  With  Pauline  he 
talks  of  ancestry  and  birth  as  only  deserving  admiration 
when  they  are  the  incentive  to  exertion.  She  asks  that 
he  tell  her  again  of  his  palace  by  the  lake  of  Como,  and 
he,  evading  her  request,  describes  with  glowing  eloquence 
the  home  to  which  could  love  fulfil  its  prayers  his  hand 
would  lead  her.  She  listens  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  ex- 
presses her  bliss  in  being  so  beloved,  and  wonders  who 
would  not  love  him  as  she  does.    He  bitterly  retorts  that 


334  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

it  is  the  prince  she  loves,  not  the  man,  that  had  he  paint- 
ed poverty,  toil,  and  care,  she  would  have  found  no 
honey  on  his  ton^e  and  he  declares  that  is  not  love. 
She  protests  that  though  she  might  not  have  been  won 
save  through  the  weakness  of  a  flattered  pride,  that  now 
could  he  fall  from  power  and  sink  —  he  interrupts,  ' '  as 
low  as  that  poor  gardener's  son  who  dared  to  lift  his 
eyes  to  thee,"  and  she  replies  that  even  then  he  would 
but  become  more  dear,  and  he  is  conscience  stricken ;  he 
has  won  the  woman's  heart,  when  he  desired  to  abase  a 
girl's  vanity.  In  the  guise  of  a  prince  he  has  acted  like 
a  knave,  and  he  goes  out  to  seek  from  his  fellow  conspir- 
ators release  from  his  oath.  But  it  is  too  late.  They 
have  arranged  that  all  shall  be  completed  this  day. 
Damas  comes  to  correct  his  Italian.  He  has  brought  two 
swords  and  he  forces  a  duel  on  Melnotte,  who  disarms 
him,  restores  his  weapon,  and  wins  his  admiration.  Beau- 
seant  returns  with  Madame  Deschappelles,  greatly  per- 
turbed. The  Directory  suspects  the  prince  and  may  ar- 
rest him,  therefore  he  must  quit  the  town,  and  in  order 
to  spare  the  mother  disappointment,  a  marriage  must 
take  place  at  once.  Beauseant  undertakes  all  arrange- 
ments, fetching  the  priest  and  having  a  coach  and  six  at 
the  door  before  the  ceremony  is  over.  Melnotte  asks 
Pauline  if  she  has  no  scruples,  for  it  is  not  yet  too  late. 
She  answers  that  when  she  loved  him  his  fate  became 
hers;  triumph  or  danger,  joy  or  sorrow,  she  will  be  by 
his  side,  and  Damas  wishes  him  joy  and  says  he  envies 
him. 

The  first  scene  of  the  third  act  is  at  the  village  inn. 
Pauline  is  within,   the   carriage  having  broken  down. 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  335 

Beauseant  and  Glavis  have  come  to  gloat.  They  are  ac- 
costed by  Mehiotte,  who  reminds  them  that  he  has  kept 
his  oath ;  thjat  they  are  done  with  him  and  his ;  that  he 
was  Pauline's  betrayer,  he  is  now  her  protector;  and  he 
orders  them  to  be  gone.  Pauline,  uncomfortable  in  the 
inn  where  all  are  rude  and  boisterous,  comes  to  Melnotte 
for  safety  and  he  begs  her  to  accompany  him  to  a  cottage 
close  at  hand,  where  she  will  be  more  secure  from  vulgar 
eyes  and  tongues,  and  he  leads  her  towards  his  mother's 
home. 

The  widow  has  been  apprised  of  their  coming  by  a  line 
so  blotted  she  could  scarce  read  it.  She  is  bustling 
about  preparing  supper  when  they  enter.  Her  greeting 
surprises  Pauline,  and  further  words  make  it  plain  that 
he  is  Melnotte,  a  peasant,  and  her  anger  rises,  she  hys- 
terically repeats  his  description  of  his  palace,  and  per- 
ceiving herself  the  jeer  and  byword  of  all  Lyons,  bids 
him  kill  her  and  save  his  wife  from  madness,  and  de- 
mands his  reason  for  crushing  her  so,  Melnotte  tells 
her  that  pride  caused  angels  to  fall  before  her  time,  and 
that  because  of  pride  the  evil  spirit  of  a  bitter  love  and 
a  revengeful  heart  had  power  upon  her.  He  relates  his 
early  romance,  his  toils  to  deserve  her  love,  his  confes- 
sion and  the  disdain  it  received,  the  plot  to  humble  her 
so  eagerly  furthered,  his  struggle,  anguish,  and  remorse. 
He  assures  her  that  reparation  to  the  full  shall  be  given, 
that  her  fraudful  marriage  is  void,  that  he  will  restore 
her  to  her  parents  and  the  law  shall  do  her  justice.  He 
calls  his  mother  and  commits  to  her  care  their  honored 
guest,  and  is  left  alone  with  his  shame. 

The  fourth  act  is  at  the  cottage.     Day  is  breaking. 


336  PLAYS  OF  BULWEE 

Melnotte  is  writing.  His  mother  approves  of  the  course 
he  has  decided  upon,  and  has  no  reproaches,  but  her 
heart  bleeds  for  him.  He  goes  to  send  off  messengers  and 
Pauline  joins  the  widow,  noting  his  consideration  in  ab- 
senting himself.  The  two  women  converse.  Claude  is 
their  only  theme,  and  Pauline  learns  how  long  and  fond- 
ly the  gardener's  son  has  worshiped  her.  Beauseant 
comes  to  the  door,  tells  the  widow  her  son  wants  to  see 
her,  then  enters  the  cottage  and  urges  Pauline  to  fly 
with  him.  Again  repulsed,  he  draws  a  pistol  and  is 
about  to  seize  her,  when  he  is  dashed  across  the  room  by 
Melnotte  who  has  returned.  Pauline  faints  at  the  sight 
of  her  husband's  danger,  but  Beauseant  retires  with- 
out firing  his  pistol.  Pauline  recovers  just  as  the  wid- 
ow returns  with  the  news  that  Monsieur  Deschappelles 
and  his  friends  are  at  hand.  All  Pauline's  anger  has 
vanished  and  her  pride  has  changed.  She  is  anxious 
to  remain  with  Melnotte,  and  seeks  to  induce  him  to 
ask  her  to  stay,  but  though  his  task  is  thus  made 
harder,  he  will  not  take  advantage  of  her  goodness.  Her 
parents  and  Damas  enter  and  all  upbraid  the  peasant. 
Melnotte  reminds  the  soldier  that  he  was  spared  when 
unarmed,  and  Damas,  recognizing  something  fine  in  the 
fellow,  ceases  to  taunt  and  seeks  to  aid.  Melnotte  gives 
to  Pauline's  father  the  necessary  papers  and  promises 
to  rid  them  of  his  presence  and  in  some  other  land  mourn 
his  sin  and  pray  for  Pauline's  peace.  The  widow  begs 
him  not  to  leave  her;  no  divorce  can  separate  a  mother 
from  her  son,  and  Pauline  becomes  courageous,  declares 
all  forgotten  and  forgiven,  and  announces  her  desire 
to  remain.    But  Melnotte  will  not  rob  her  of  holier  ties. 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS  337 

Her  husband  should  be  one  who  can  look  her  in  the  face 
without  blushing.  He  is  not  that  man  and  he  accepts 
Damas's  offer  of  service  in  his  regiment  which  starts  for 
Italy  at  once. 

The  fifth  act  is  in  Lyons.  Two  years  and  a  half  have 
elapsed  and  the  soldiers  are  returning.  Officers  are  dis- 
cussing Damas,  who  is  now  a  general,  and  his  friend 
Morier,  who  interests  all  by  his  melancholy,  his  valor, 
and  his  brilliant  rise.  Damas  confides  that  Morier  hopes 
to  find  a  miracle  in  Lyons  —  a  constant  woman.  Beau- 
seant  passes  and  is  accosted  by  the  general,  who  learns 
that  Pauline  has  consented  to  annul  her  marriage  with 
Melnotte  and  unite  herself  to  Beauseant.  The  papers 
are  to  be  signed  to-day  and  Damas  is  invited  to  be  pres- 
ent. Melnotte  joins  Damas.  He  has  heard  the  news  and 
is  despairing  and  in  grief.  The  general  suggests  that 
Melnotte  accompany  him  to  the  house.  His  dress,  his 
cloak,  his  moustache  and  bronzed  hue  will  prevent  any- 
one from  recognizing  him,  and  thus  he  may  see  her  and 
perhaps  learn  something. 

In  a  room  of  the  Deschappelles  residence  Pauline  in 
great  dejection  is  thanked  by  her  father  for  consenting 
to  save  his  name  from  disgrace.  Her  repugnance  to  the 
step  he  has  urged  is  so  evident,  that  he  will  rather  face 
the  ruin  than  spoil  her  Hf  e,  but  she  tells  him  she  is  not 
ungrateful,  only  human,  and  since  there  is  no  other  hope 
she  is  prepared.  Congratulations  are  a  mockery ;  she  is 
reconciled  to  her  doom.  She  appeals  toi  Beauseant  to  be 
generous  and  save  the  father  but  spare  the  child.  He 
replies  that  he  has  not  the  sublime  virtue  to  grant  her 
prayer.     Damas  enters  and  introduces  Colonel  Morier, 


338  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

and  while  others  are  engaged  with  the  hero  the  general 
gathers  from  Pauline  the  circumstances  which  compel 
the  barter  of  her  hand.  Damas  cannot  help  her,  but 
Morier  is  the  intimate  friend  of  Melnotte  and  by  him 
she  might  send  some  message  to  soften  the  blow.  Paul- 
ine approaches  Melnotte;  she  is  ashamed  and  dare  not 
look  up  at  the  colonel,  who  must  despise  her.  She  asks 
him  to  convey  to  Melnotte  the  assurance  that  she  would 
rather  walk  the  world  by  his  side,  work,  beg  for  him, 
than  wear  a  crown;  that  if  he  could  read  her  heart  he 
would  pardon  the  desertion;  that  her  father  is  on  an 
abyss  and  calls  his  child  to  save  him,  and  she  must  not 
shrink;  they  will  meet  in  heaven.  A  few  words  with 
Damas  acquaints  Melnotte  of  the  impending  bankruptcy, 
and  when  the  contract  is  about  to  be  signed,  he  seizes  and 
destroys  it,  putting  forward  his  prior  claim  and  giving 
more  than  the  needed  sum,  and  speaking  in  his  natural 
voice,  which  is  recognized  by  Pauline,  who  rushes  into 
her  husband's  arms.  It  is  quickly  explained  how  as 
Morier  he  rose  from  rank  to  rank  until  he  could  again 
bear  his  father's  name  spotless,  and  he  is  Morier  no  more 
after  this  happy  day. 


RICHELIEU 

IN  this  heroic  play  the  purposes  and  characteristics  of 
the  cardinal-statesman  who  made  France  great,  and 
consolidated  the  power  of  its  monarchy,  are  eluci- 
dated and  displayed.  He  opposed  a  king 's  passion  which 
was  fostered  by  his  foes,  and  preferred  to  surrender 
power  and  allow  his  patriotic  labors  in  recreating  the  in- 
stitutions of  his  country  to  be  undone,  rather  than  abate 
his  resistance  to  a  monarch's  unrighteous  design.  The 
benefits  he  conferred  and  the  motives  which  inspired  him 
are  recounted  as  his  titles  to  renown,  the  courage  and 
resolution  with  which  he  defied  opposition  and  carried 
to  completion  his  aims  are  shown  as  incentives  to  emu- 
lation, and  the  tenderness  and  disregard  of  kingly  wrath 
manifested  in  the  fulfillment  of  his  duty  as  protector  of 
the  innocent  are  adduced  as  qualities  which  establish  a 
fonder  claim  on  human  sympathy  than  the  distresses 
which  accumulated  upon  him.  Santine's  La  Maitresse 
de  Louis  XIII  suggested  the  plot,  but  the  fable,  inci- 
dents, and  persons  of  the  play  bear  little  resemblance  to 
those  of  the  romance. 

A  great  character  —  combining  hero,  statesman,  pa- 
triot, and  priest ;  a  great  event  —  a  conspiracy  to  admit 
the  foreigner  into  France ;  great  situations  —  a  minister 
humiliated  by  his  king,  yet  not  quailing ;  a  cardinal  in- 
terposing the  Aegis  of  Rome  between  a  monarch  and  his 


340  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

victim;  a  dying  statesman  reanimated  by  power  con- 
ferred anew  —  these  receive  adequate  expression  and  rep- 
resentation in  noble  verse  and  virile  figures  to  which 
have  been  imparted  distinction,  endurance,  and  anima- 
tion, the  signs  of  the  mind  of  a  man. 

An  oddity  of  effect  pertaining  to  all  dramatic  repre- 
sentation is  illustrated  in  Richelieu.  The  destiny  of 
France  is  involved  in  the  fate  of  the  cardinal,  the  audi- 
ence is  aware  that  the  Spaniard  will  dictate  at  Paris  if 
the  conspiracy  succeeds,  yet  the  emotional  response  to 
the  agony  of  the  minister  who  foresees  the  coming  woes 
is  slight  and  limited  in  comparison  to  the  ready  and  fer- 
vent sympathy  evoked  by  the  sorrows  of  Julie ;  and  it  is 
the  relation  of  the  old  man  to  the  orphan  —  age  guard- 
\  ing  innocence  —  which  arousesi  general  pity,  not  the  mis- 
\^\  fortunes  impending  upon  the  country,  nor  the  reverses 
V^^/'pf  a  devoted  patriot. 

Richelieu  is  menaced  by  a  conspiracy  which  seeks  to  de- 
stroy him,  to  tamper  with  the  army  in  the  field,  and  to 
f-^'  use  his  ward  who  has  charmed  the  king  as  an  instrument 
to  ensure  success.  He  hastens  Julie's  marriage  with  De 
Mauprat  to  thwart  the  domestic  scheme,  arranges  to  in- 
tercept a  dispatch  intended  for  the  commander  of  the 
army  and  thus  defeat  the  larger  plot,  and  by  an  addition 
to  the  number  of  his  guards  he  provides  for  his  personal 
safety.  But  the  cardinal's  plans  all  fail,  the  marriage 
is  annulled  by  Louis,  Francois  is  despoiled  of  the  papers 
and  the  captain  of  the  troops  turns  traitor. 

Julie,  separated  from  her  husband  and  tempted  by  the 
king,  seeks  refuge  with  Richelieu,  and  De  Mauprat  en- 
ters the  minister's  castle  bent  on  slaying  him.     Finding 


RICHELIEU  341 

his  wife  safe  with  her  guardian  and  perceiving  that  he 
has  been  duped  by  his  false  friend,  the  chevalier  becomes 
assiduous  in  defense.  Enemies  are  everywhere,  so  the 
cardinal  feigns  death  and  the  news  is  carried  to  the  plot- 
ters at  Paris,  who  to  prevent  possible  confessions  prompt- 
ly imprison  the  message-bearers. 

Richelieu 's  reported  assassination  gives  encouragement 
to  the  conspirators  and  when,  surprising  all,  he  enters 
the  presence  of  the  monarch  and  reports  the  planned 
murder,  his  demand  for  justice  is  denied.  Posts  of  honor 
are  conferred  upon  the  cardinal's  foes,  who  promise  to 
secure  Julie's  return  to  the  court,  and  Richelieu,  an- 
ticipating dismissal,  and  more  enfeebled  by  fear  for 
France  if  his  policies  are  reversed  than  by  his  ailments, 
attends  the  king  to  surrender  his  portfolios.  The  report 
of  conditions  everywhere  save  in  Prance  alarms  Louis 
and  he  perceives  that  his  court  has  no  capable  successor 
to  the  cardinal  whose  life  appears  to  be  ebbing  away. 
Francois  has  recovered  the  lost  dispatch  and  brings  it  to 
Richelieu,  who  desires  the  king  to  read  it.  Learning 
from  this  document  the  real  designs  of  his  pretended 
friends  and  his  own  imminent  danger,  Louis  begs  his  old 
minister  to  live  and  rule  with  absolute  power,  and,  re- 
vivified by  the  restoration  to  authority,  the  cardinal 
rises,  orders  the  arrest  of  the  conspirators,  issues  in- 
structions to  the  envoys,  wins  clemency  for  Julie  and  De 
Mauprat,  and  resumes  his  position  as  minister  of  France. 

The  incidents  which  are  links  in  this  chain  of  events 
increase  in  importance,  impressiveness,  and  poignancy  as 
the  action  progresses,  and  each  discloses  a  different  phase 
of  the  many-sided  patriot-priest.     His  familiar  unbend- 


342  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

ings  with  Joseph  and  his  resignation  to  a  state  of  phys- 
ical weakness,  since  he  is  able  to  wield  a  mightier  weapon 
than  the  sword,  are  followed  by  the  revelation  of  his 
minute  information,  his  earnestness,  and  his  grim  irony, 
together  with  his  rapid  appreciation  of  manliness  in  De 
Mauprat.  The  soliloquy  wherein  he  defends  his  use  of 
equivocal  means  by  the  glorious  ends  accomplished,  un- 
folds his  ambition  and  designs,  and  discloses  the  latent 
justice  which  denies  happiness  to  him.  His  ardent  in- 
terest in  the  young  gives  warmth  and  gentleness  to  the 
grave  but  encouraging  words  by  which  he  restores  con- 
fidence and  hope  to  Francois.  His  colloquy  with  the  king 
is  distinguished  by  the  sustained  dignity  mth  which  he 
recounts  his  services,  sweeps  aside  all  rivalry,  asserts  his 
confidence  in  future  justice,  and  proudly  disdains  all 
temporizing.  His  defiance  of  Baradas  is  matchless  for 
its  denunciatory  intensity.  And  the  potency  of  his  will 
to  triumph  over  bodily  exhaustion  is  startliagly  evi- 
denced when  with  the  new  grant  of  power  fresh  life 
seems  to  invigorate  his  frame  and  he  rises  from  his  couch 
to  crush  his  foes  and  complete  his  projects. 

The  figures  whose  cooperations  and  antagonisms  at- 
tract attention  to  and  from  the  great  cardinal  are  such 
as  the  circumstances  and  the  time  associated  with  the 
minister.  The  shrewd,  tactful,  and  unscupulous  Ca- 
puchin Joseph,  the  eager,  devoted,  and  persevering 
Francois,  the  frail  confidence-betrayer  Marion,  and  the 
traitor-spy  Huguet  are  such  instruments  as  Richelieu 
availed  himself  of  —  for  beneficent  ends  using  devious 
means  —  and  they  reflect  the  enthusiasm  he  inspired  in 
those  to  whom  he  deigned  to  be  gracious.     Julie  arouses 


RICHELIEU  343 

the  deepest  interest,  the  innocence,  grief,  and  danger  of 
the  young  wife  make  a  stronger  appeal  to  emotion  than 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  statesman,  for  she  is  a  representa- 
tive of  the  race  and  her  peril  comes  home  to  all,  he  of 
the  passing  generation,  and  political  misfortunes  are 
only  comprehended  by  the  few.  The  fatherly  tenderness 
of  the  old  man  to  the  young  orphan  wins  sympathy  for 
both  which  deepens  into  awe  when  he  throws  around  her 
the  august  protection  of  the  Church.  De  Mauprat,  the 
frank  and  highminded  chevalier  who,  misled  by  the  sus- 
picions plausibly  insinuated  by  his  rival,  is  confused  into 
doubt,  error,  and  almost  into  crime,  is  a  worthy  specimen 
of  that  noblesse  which  cheerfully  dared  all  danger  and 
preferred  death  to  baseness.  The  unstable  Gaston,  Bar- 
adas,  the  ennobled  knave  inebriate  with  unmerited  suc- 
cess, De  Beringhen,  whose  chief  business  in  life  is  eat- 
ing —  these  envious  coveters  of  power,  who  by  their  con- 
trol to  the  austere  demeanor  of  Richelieu  win  temporary 
favor  T^^th  the  timorous,  selfish  king,  are  the  complaisant 
and  sycophantic  creatures  natural  to  such  a  court  as  that 
of  Louis  XIII. 

Richelieu's  personality  dominates  the  play,  and  his 
designs,  methods,  and  traits  of  character  are  compacted 
into  a  comprehensive  portrait  which  impresses  by  its 
qualities  of  grandeur  and  concentrated  will.  And  though 
the  cardinal  is  exhibited  only  in  kindly  and  noble  ac- 
tions —  evincing  human  emotion  in  fatherlike  cherishing 
of  the  weak  and  moral  strength  in  his  devotion  to  a  sub- 
lime abstraction  —  the  alloy  of  evil  in  the  aspiring  states- 
man is  not  ignored ;  the  fact  that  men  conspired  against 
his  rule  is  but  one  indication  of  grave  faults  in  the  min- 


344  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

ister  and  he  reveals  his  own  consciousness  that  undue 
severity  has  accompanied  the  carrying  out  of  his  meas- 
ures. 

The  creation  of  a  united  and  powerful  France  was  the 
object  of  Richelieu's  every  act  and  thought.  He  disre- 
garded an  agonizing  disease  and  overtasked  a  feeble  con- 
stitution in  his  endeavors  to  compass  that  achievement. 
His  agents  were  spies,  courtesans,  and  priests,  he  was 
ruthless  in  dealing  with  opposition  and  sent  many  to  the 
headsman,  but  never  one  who  was  not  an  enemy  to  France 
—  no  merely  private  foe  was  ever  his  victim.  And  de- 
spite the  caprices  of  an  ailing  king  whose  bodily  in- 
firmities rivalled  his  own,  despite  intrigues,  plots,  and 
treasons,  before  he  died,  worn  out  at  fifty-seven,  he  had 
established  order,  reformed  the  administration,  de- 
stroyed feudalism,  exacted  restitution  from  the  Church, 
enlarged  the  army,  created  a  navy,  and  made  France 
safe,  strong,  and  paramount  among  the  nations. 

The  white-haired,  deep-eyed,  sharp-visaged  man  whose 
pain-racked  frame  housed  an  indomitable  will  and  a 
large-visioned  mind  was  a  strange  blending  of  seemingly 
incongruous  qualities.  Ever  oscillating  between  ex- 
tremes of  arrogance  and  humility,  sternness  and  play, 
courage  and  timidity,  high  ambitions  and  petty  desires; 
subjecting  France  to  iron  rule  he  submitted  to  tjrranny 
from  his  own  domestics.  The  most  powerful  of  states- 
men, he  yearned  for  fame  as  a  poet.  When  the  queen- 
mother  visited  him  he  received  her  capped  and  in  the 
purple.  Her  majesty  stood  and  he  sat.  When  a  half- 
dozen  mediocre  authors  were  engaged  in  criticising  his 


RICHELIEU  345 

verses,  they  were  seated  and  wore  their  hats  while  the 
cardinal  stood  bare-headed. 

His  manner  was  as  variable  as  his  moods.  His  move- 
ments were  at  times  quick  and  impulsive,  at  others  lan- 
^id  and  slow.  At  one  moment  he  seemed  a  dying 
man,  soon  he  would  display  unusual  vivacity  and  energy. 
The  scornful  contempt  long  bestowed  upon  rivals  would 
suddenly  be  abandoned  for  a  serious  appraisement  of 
their  merits.  He  could  be  a  gay  flatterer,  an  adroit 
courtier,  an  impassioned  orator,  and  he  knew  how  to 
praise.  Generally  fervidly  earnest  in  discourse,  he  did 
not  disdain  the  resort  to  familiar  cajolery,  and  cynical 
irony  was  a  frequently  used  weapon. 

His  judgment  of  character  seemed  unerring.  The  men 
whom  he  preferred  to  office  proved  themselves  able,  loyal, 
and  worthy,  and  his  penetration  into  motives  and  rapid 
decision  as  to  actions  were  as  remarkable  as  the  thorough- 
ness with  which  he  kept  himself  informed  of  antagonistic 
movements. 

In  displaying  the  patriot-minister,  a  juster  view  of  the 
man  is  presented  than  is  usually  adopted  by  writers. 
Bulwer's  characterization  of  Richelieu  is  the  result  of  in- 
dependent study  and  research.  He  condemned  the  nu- 
merous exaggerations  of  the  cardinal's  cruelty  and  wrote 
as  follows  in  accounting  for  the  deeper  impression  cre- 
ated by  his  punishments  than  his  achievements : 

' '  Compare  the  One  Man  with  the  Multiform  People,  — 
compare  Richelieu  with  the  Republic.  How  much  wiser 
in  his  generation  is  the  One  Man!  Richelieu,  with  his 
errors,  his  crimes,  his  foibles,  and  his  cruelties,  marches 


346  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

invariably  to  one  result  and  obtains  it ;  —  he  overthrows 
but  to  construct  —  he  destroys  but  to  establish ;  —  he  de- 
sired to  create  a  great  monarchy,  and  he  succeeded.  The 
People  —  with  crimes  to  which  those  of  the  One  Man 
seem  fair  and  spotless,  —  with  absurdities  which  turn 
the  Tragedy  of  Massacre  into  Farce,  —  with  energies  to 
which  all  individual  strength  is  as  the  leaf  upon  the 
whirlpool,  —  sets  up  a  democracy  as  the  bridge  to  a  des- 
potism. And  suddenly  the  Soldier  with  the  iron  crown 
of  the  Lombard  fills,  solitary  and  sublime,  the  vast 
space  where  the  loud  Democracy  roared  and  swayed. 
And  this  because  in  the  individual  there  is  continuity  of 
^f  purpose.     The  One  is  a  man,  the  Many  a  child. 

**Like  all  men  who  rise  to  supreme  power,  the  great 
Cardinal  had  the  characteristics  of  the  time  and  the  na- 
tion that  he  wielded.  In  his  faults  or  in  his  merits  he 
was  eminently  French.  He  represented  the  want  of  the 
French  People  at  the  precise  period  in  their  history  in 
which  Providence  placed  him  as  its  tool:  he  reduced 
provinces  into  a  nation:  he  forced  discordant  elements, 
whether  plebian  or  patrician,  into  order ;  he  did  not  malie 
the  people  free,  nor  were  they  fit  for  it ;  but  out  of  riot- 
ous and  barbarous  factions  he  called  forth  orderly  sub- 
jects, and  a  rough  undeveloped  system  of  civil  govern- 
ment. He  never  once  appeared  as  the  enemy  of  the  Mul- 
titude: his  cruelty  was  directed  against  their  enemies. 
In  an  early  state  of  civilization  the  worst  foe  to  the 
country  is  the  powerful  baron,  whose  intrigues  are 
hatched  under  the  helmet,  and  whose  threat  is  civil  war. 
The  traitor  to  the  King  is  in  these  times  the  traitor  to 
the  country.     The  silken  and  graceful  Cinq  Mars,  in  re- 


RICHELIEU  347 

belling  against  the  monarch  who  had  heaped  him  with 
favors,  aims  at  introducing  the  foreigner  into  France. 
In  all  those  contests  for  power,  in  which  we  see  the  worn, 
anxious,  solemn  image  of  the  Cardinal-Minister,  with 
his  terrible  familiars  of  Spy  and  Hangman,  he  is  still 
on  that  side  where  the  French  Nation  should  have  ranged, 
building  up  the  school  beside  the  throne,  and  making  at 
least  a  State,  though  the  time  and  the  men  had  not  yet 
arrived  for  the  creation  of  a  people.  But  it  was  pre- 
cisely because  his  cruelties  (with  some  rare  exceptions 
when  his  religious  opinions,  in  common  with  those  of  the 
Catholics  of  the  age,  pushed  him  into  intolerance)  were 
exercised,  not  against  the  mean  but  the  great,  that  in  the 
very  rank  of  their  tyrants  the  ignorant  multitude  saw 
greater  cause  for  compassion,  and  condemned  the  rigid 
severity  that  alone  preserved  them  from  feudal  outrage 
and  civil  war.  It  is  true  that  Richelieu  was  often  thus 
personally  unpopular,  but  that  is  the  general  lot  of  those 
who  boldly  and  sternly  represent  the  People. ' ' 

The  play  opens  in  the  house  of  Marion  de  Lorme,  which 
the  conspirators  have  chosen  as  the  safest  meeting  place. 
Baradas  has  arranged  that  at  the  given  signal  Bouillon 
with  his  army  will  join  the  Spaniards,  march  on  Paris, 
dethrone  the  king,  install  Orleans  as  regent  and  con- 
stitute a  new  council  calling  their  friends  to  the  impor- 
tant positions.  To  assure  complete  success,  RicheUeu^s 
assassination  is  necessary  and  Baradas  charges  himself 
with  the  duty  of  procuring  his  removal.  De  Mauprat 
has  been  playing  at  dice  while  the  conference  was  pro- 
ceeding.    He  has  lost  heavily  but  shows  no  sign  of  dis- 


348  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

appointment.  There  is  something  in  his  demeanor  that 
provokes  curiosity  and  Baradas  determines  to  learn  what 
secret  causes  his  contrasting  behavior;  presuming  on 
their  boyhood  intimacy  he  questions  De  Mauprat,  who  in- 
forms him  that  he  daily  expects  a  summons  to  the  gal- 
lows, that  he  participated  in  one  of  Orleans'  revolts,  and 
was  omitted  from  the  general  pardon  by  the  cardinal,  on 
the  ground  that  in  one  enterprise  he  had  acted  without 
orders,  for  which  death  is  the  penalty;  that  Richelieu 
had  given  him  opportunity  to  change  the  traitor's  scaf- 
fold for  the  soldier's  grave  and  sent  him  against  the 
Spaniards,  but  seeking  death  he  could  not  die ;  and  when 
the  cardinal  reviewing  the  troops  beheld  him  he  grimly 
observed  that  he  had  shunned  the  sword,  but  the  axe 
would  fall  one  day.  Baradas  thinks  he  has  here  the  in- 
strument for  slaying  the  cardinal  and  invites  him  to  join 
the  conspiracy  and  assist  in  freeing  France  from  the 
tyrant,  but  De  Mauprat  refuses  to  be  an  assassin.  Riche- 
lieu is  needed,  he  is  not.  Further  queries  lead  Baradas 
to  discover  in  his  companion  a  rival  in  love,  and  he  de- 
termines to  make  him  a  victim  since  he  will  not  be  a 
murderer.  As  they  are  leaving  the  apartment  the  agents 
of  the  cardinal  arrest  De  Mauprat ;  his  suspense  is  over. 
Richelieu  and  his  confidant,  Joseph,  are  discussing  the 
new  conspiracy  of  which  spies  have  informed  them. 
Their  penetration  enables  them  to  see  many  weaknesses 
in  their  foe's  arrangements,  and  one  detail  angers  the 
minister.  His  orphan-ward  has  charmed  the  king,  and 
Baradas  schemes  to  make  her  useful  by  marrying  her  as 
a  cloak  for  the  king's  designs,  and  that  indignity  the 
cardinal  determines  to  prevent.    Julie  is  announced,  and 


RICHELIEU  349 

Richelieu  questions  her,  fearing  that  she  may  care  for 
the  king  or  for  Baradas.  Her  answers  reassure  and  con- 
vince him  that  De  Mauprat  is  the  object  of  her  prefer- 
ence. He  bids  her  forget  him.  Huguet  reports  that  De 
Mauprat  waits  below  and  Julie  manifests  a  betraying 
concern  and  anxiety,  begging  the  cardinal  not  to  rank 
Adrian  among  his  foes.  She  is  told  to  wait  in  the  tap- 
estry chamber  while  the  chevalier  is  interrogated,  and 
De  Mauprat  is  brought  in.  Richelieu  reminds  him  of  the 
clemency  shown  him  three  years  ago  requited  by  evil 
living,  wassail,  gambling,  dishonesty,  and  fraud.  De 
Mauprat  indignantly  demands  that  these  words  be  un- 
said, and  Huguet,  waiting  behind  a  screen  to  protect  the 
cardinal,  raises  his  carbine.  With  a  wave  of  his  hand 
Richelieu  deters  Huguet,  remarking :  ' '  Messire  de  Mau- 
prat is  a  patient  man  and  he  can  wait. ' '  Turning  again 
to  the  chevalier  he  tells  him  the  amount  he  owes,  and 
says  he  must  pay  his  debts.  De  Mauprat 's  answers  are 
bold,  frank,  but  respectful,  and  please  the  cardinal,  who 
rising  impressively  describes  the  condition  in  which  he 
found  his  country,  his  labors  to  recreate  France,  the  jus- 
tice of  his  rule,  and  the  evil  judgments  men  circulate 
about  him.  He  declares  he  intends  to  make  De  Mauprat 
his  champion  to  confute  the  detractors;  he  shall  be  rich 
and  great,  and  in  return  shall  accept  from  Richelieu  a 
bride  whose  dower  shall  match  but  not  exceed  her  beau- 
ty. The  chevalier  demurs,  he  has  no  wish  to  marry. 
Richelieu  charges  him  with  loving  his  ward  Julie,  which 
De  Mauprat  admits,  advancing  that  as  a  reason  why  he 
cannot  consent  to  other  nuptials.  He  would  rather  meet 
the  fate  he  looked  for.    Rapidly  and  sternly  Richelieu 


350  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

orders  Huguet  to  conduct  his  prisoner  to  the  tapestry 
chamber.  Then  Joseph  is  instructed  to  prepare  the 
house  by  the  Luxembourg  for  a  bridal  present  for  Julie, 
who  weds  tomorrow.  De  Mauprat,  expecting  death,  has 
found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  woman  for  whom 
he  braved  it,  and  doubtful  of  their  good  fortune  Julie 
and  he  come  forward,  are  assured  that  they  are  not 
dreaming,  and  the  cardinal  blesses  his  children. 

The  second  act  begins  in  De  Mauprat 's  new  house. 
Baradas,  intent  on  ruining  his  successful  rival,  has  com- 
municated both  the  secret  of  his  unexpiated  offense  and 
his  marriage  with  Julie  to  the  king,  who  has  declared 
the  nuptials  contrary  to  law,  and  has  ordered  De  Mau- 
prat, on  penalty  of  death,  to  refrain  from  communicat- 
ing with  Julie.  Baradas  persuades  De  Mauprat  that 
he  has  been  snared  by  Richelieu,  that  the  pretended 
favors  are  blinds  to  facilitate  the  suit  of  the  king,  who 
is  infatuated  with  Julie,  and  he  again  urges  the  cheva- 
lier to  join  the  conspiracy  and  revenge  his  wrongs  while 
delivering  his  country.  De  Mauprat  is  confounded  and 
distracted  and  requires  time  to  think.  The  sight  of  man 
is  loathsome,  and  he  goes  into  the  gardens.  Meanwhile 
Julie  has  been  summoned  to  the  Louvre  and  this  extra- 
ordinary command,  together  with  the  perturbed  and 
strange  behavior  of  her  husband,  cause  anxious  misgiv- 
ings. De  Mauprat  returning  finds  that  his  wife  has 
gone  in  the  king's  carriage.  The  insinuations  of  Bara- 
das seem  confirmed,  and  concluding  that  he  has  been 
misused  and  outraged  by  Richelieu,  he  joins  in  the  plot 
to  destroy  him. 

Particulars  of  the  conspiracy  are  accumulating  and 


RICHELIEU  351 

the  cardinal's  contemptuous  levity  is  changed  by  the 
information  Marion  de  Lorme  brings  to  him  and  he  rec- 
ognizes that  there  is  danger  which  it  will  tax  his  re- 
sources to  circumvent.  A  dispatch  is  to  be  sent  to  Bou- 
illon, and  the  interception  of  that  document  would  place 
the  cardinal's  foes  in  his  power.  Marion  can  choose  the 
messenger  and  Francois  is  entrusted  with  the  duty  of 
receiving  it,  and  because  another  agent  is  needed,  against 
Joseph's  advice  Huguet  is  to  be  promoted  to  greater 
power.  That  individual  overhears  that  certain  personal 
requests  he  has  made  are  to  be  promised  as  an  incentive 
to  faithfulness,  but  not  complied  with  because  too  un- 
reasonable, and  therefore  he  becomes  a  traitor. 

The  third  act  discloses  Richelieu  in  a  gothic  chamber 
of  his  castle,  reading  and  soliloquizing  about  his  own 
career  and  acts.  He  has  done  great  things  by  such  in- 
struments as  he  could  command.  These  have  not  always 
been  commendable,  but  no  selfish  aim  has  ever  degraded 
his  ambition.  All  his  energies  have  been  expended  for 
France,  yet  happiness  has  not  rewarded  his  efforts. 
Francois  enters  hastily  and  asks  the  cardinal  to  punish 
him,  for  he  received  the  package  but  it  was  wrested 
from  him  by  an  armed  man  who  avowed  designs  on  Rich- 
elieu's  life.  The  cardinal  tells  him  the  treasure  meant 
honor,  which  is  more  than  life ;  that  he  must  track  the 
robber  and  regain  the  despatch;  he  has  not  failed, 
there's  no  such  word  as  fail;  and  with  renewed  courage 
Francois  goes  back  to  his  task.  Julie  comes  for  protec- 
tion. The  king  having  commanded  her  attendance  at 
the  palace,  at  night  sought  her  chamber  and  when  re- 
pulsed sent  Baradas,  who  told  her  that  De  Mauprat 


352  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

knew  the  king's  purpose  and  deemed  it  honor;  and  she, 
recalling  her  husband's  mystery  in  words,  looks,  acts, 
begins  to  see  an  impost er  where  she  had  loved  a  god. 
Richelieu  remarks  that  he  thinks  she  wrongs  De  Mau- 
prat,  but  bids  her  proceed.  She  relates  how  the  queen 
preserved  her  and  secured  egress  from  the  Louvre,  how 
she  hastened  to  her  home  and  found  it  desolate  and  so 
came  hither.  The  cardinal  assures  her  that  she  wrongs 
her  husband  and  conducts  her  to  her  room.  When  Riche- 
lieu returns  he  is  menaced  by  a  figure  in  complete 
armor  who  threatens  death.  Undauntedly  the  cardinal 
proclaims  that  earth  has  no  parricide  who  dares  in 
Richelieu  murder  France,  and  asks  what  cause  has  led 
to  such  a  purpose.  The  intruder  relates  his  tale  of  sup- 
posed wrongs,  bids  the  cardinal  expect  no  mercy,'  and 
lifting  his  visor  reveals  De  Mauprat.  With  lofty  pity 
Richelieu  shows  how  he  has  been  duped,  calls  Julie  as 
proof  of  his  statements,  and  composes  their  misunder- 
standing. De  Mauprat,  perceiving  his  error,  now  be- 
stirs himself  to  save  the  cardinal,  whose  castle  is  filled 
with  armed  foes.  Escape  being  impossible,  Richelieu 
eke's  out  the  lion's  skin  with  the  fox's  and  feigns  death. 
As  other  conspirators  burst  into  the  room  the  doors  of 
the  recess  wherein  he  lies  are  thrown  open  by  De  Mau- 
prat, who  cries  "Live  the  king,  Richelieu  is  dead!"  and 
eager  for  promised  reward,  all  rush  back  to  Paris  with 
the  tidings. 

Orleans  and  De  Beringhen,  dubious  of  the  success  of 
the  plot,  are  arranging  for  their  own  safety  if  the  plans 
miscarry.  Baradas  has  prepared  for  the  quick  punish- 
ment of  his  agents  if  they  succeed.    Huguet  brings  news 


RICHELIEU  353 

of  Richelieu's  murder  and  demands  the  promised  re- 
ward. He  is  sent,  a  gagged  prisoner,  to  the  Bastile. 
Francois  reports  the  theft  of  the  despatch  hy  an  armed 
man  who  watched  without.  In  alann  they  conclude  this 
must  have  heen  De  Mauprat  and  order  Francois  to  find 
him. 

In  the  fourth  act  Louis  XIII  appears.  He  half  re- 
grets Richelieu's  death,  not  knowing  who  can  govern 
France ;  he  is  half  glad  that  a  restraint  is  removed  from 
his  own  actions;  he  pities  himself  because  on  so  prom- 
ising a  day  it  would  be  indecorous  for  him  to  hunt,  and 
he  resents  the  loss  of  Julie,  which  he  attributes  to  the 
cardinal's  want  of  love  for  him.  De  Mauprat,  eager  to 
punish  Baradas'  duplicity,  enters  in  search  of  that  con- 
spirator. Francois  asks  him  about  the  despatch,  but  be- 
fore an  answer  can  be  given  Baradas  is  seen,  and  De 
Mauprat  orders  him  to  draw  and  they  are  fighting  when 
the  king  enters.  Baradas  protests  that  his  crime  was 
self-defense  and  informs  the  monarch  that  his  adver- 
sary is  Julie's  husband.  De  Mauprat  is  ordered  to  the 
Bastile.  At  this  moment,  to  the  consternation  of  king 
and  courtiers  His  Eminence  the  Cardinal  Richelieu  and 
his  attendants  enter  and  be  Mauprat  calls  upon  the 
minister  for  protection.  The  cardinal  takes  the  writ 
from  the  guard.  Louis,  determined  to  exercise  author- 
ity himself,  confirms  the  sentence  and  De  Mauprat  is  re- 
moved. In  the  meanwhile  Francois  has  elicited  the  name 
of  him  to  whom  the  despatch  was  given.  Richelieu 
fiercely  demands  uninterrupted  audience  with  the  king, 
who,  prompted  by  Baradas,  persists  in  disregarding  the 
minister's  demand  for  justice,  and  leaves  him  disgraced 


354  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

and  powerless.  Joseph  suggests  to  Richelieu  that  he 
should  have  been  less  haughty,  relates  fresh  instances  of 
the  activities  of  their  foes,  and  sees  that  nothing  can  save 
them  now  but  the  production  of  the  despatch.  Julie  de- 
mands her  husband,  who  saved  the  cardinal's  life.  Riche- 
lieu, more  concerned  for  her  trouble  than  his  own,  tries 
to  comfort  her,  but  has  to  tell  her  that  De  Mauprat  is 
in  the  Bastile.  Joseph  acquaints  her  with  the  king's 
anger  and  the  present  inability  of  Richelieu  to  help  any- 
one. A  courtier  comes  commanded  by  the  king  to  pray 
Julie's  presence.  Richelieu  orders  him  away,  and  is 
leading  his  ward  out  when  Baradas  comes  to  enforce  the 
king's  orders.  The  cardinal  with  terrible  energy  turns, 
and  threatens  him  with  the  curse  of  Rome  if  he  or  any- 
one dares  to  approach  her.  The  effort  exhausts  the  weak- 
ened old  man ;  he  sinks  and  appears  to  swoon.  The  cow- 
ering Baradas  regards  his  fainting  as  an  indication  of 
failing  powers,  but  he  retires  knowing  that  his  head  is  in 
jeopardy. 

In  the  fifth  act,  Joseph  fails  in  an  attempt  to  bribe  his 
way  to  Huguet.  De  Beringhen  has  better  success  and 
good-naturedly  obtains  admission  for  Francois,  who  rep- 
resents himself  as  Huguet 's  son.  De  Beringhen  by  force 
secures  the  package  and  as  he  emerges  from  the  prison- 
er's cell  Francois  seizes  and  struggles  with  him. 

Baradas  and  Orleans  see  all  their  plans  near  realiza- 
tion, their  only  disturbing  fear  being  lest  the  despatch 
finds  its  way  to  Richelieu.  The  king  makes  Baradas  min- 
ister and  confers  upon  Orleans  the  baton  of  his  armies. 
Julie  petitions  the  monarch  for  her  husband's  life  but  is 


RICHELIEU  355 

referred  to  Baradas,  who  promises  to  free  De  Mauprat 
if  she  will  become  his  wife,  otherwise  her  husband 's  fate 
is  sealed.  Julie  offers  to  separate  from  De  Mauprat  and 
enter  a  convent  if  his  life  is  spared,  but  Baradas  declares 
he  will  not  lose  her,  and  orders  De  Mauprat  to  be 
brought  in  a  prisoner  to  pass  to  death  unless  she  saves 
him,  and  he  seizes  Julie's  hand.  That  touch  decides 
them  —  they  choose  death.  The  cardinal,  apparently  on 
the  verge  of  the  grave,  attends  the  king  to  deliver  up  the 
ledgers  of  a  realm  and  spare  his  majesty  some  pains  of 
conscience  by  resigning  office.  As  one  by  one  the  secre- 
taries describe  the  condition  of  their  departments,  about 
which  Baradas  has  no  practical  advice,  affairs  appear  so 
critical  that  the  king  repents  the  change  he  has  made, 
since  there  is  no  one  else  with  Richelieu's  ability. 

The  cardinal  is  very  weak.  In  depriving  him  of  power 
they  crush  his  heart  and  his  enfeebled  frame  can  scarce 
sustain  the  agony  with  which  he  perceives  his  policies 
which  have  made  France  great  being  thrown  to  the 
winds.  Francois  has  been  wounded  but  he  brings  the 
despatch  to  Richelieu,  who  hands  it  to  the  king,  whom  it 
most  concerns.  Louis  reads  and  discovers  the  pur- 
poses of  his  supposed  friends.  The  cardinal  sinks  su- 
pine. The  king,  alarmed,  beseeches  him  to  live  to  re- 
sume sway  and  reign  with  absolute  power.  Revived  by 
restoration  to  his  place  and  authority,  Richelieu  rises, 
gives  quick  instructions  to  the  secretaries,  orders  Bara- 
das away,  "he  has  lost  the  stake,"  destroys  the  death- 
warrant  of  De  Mauprat  and  bids  Julie  embrace  her  hus- 
band.    The  king  observes  pee\dshly  that  one  moment 


356  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

makes  a  startling  cure  and  Richelieu  replies  that  the 
might  of  France  passed  into  his  withered  frame  in  that 
moment. 

The  conspiracy  is  foiled,  the  cardinal  is  restored  to 
power,  and  Julie  and  De  Mauprat  are  forgiven. 


THE  RIGHTFUL  HEIR 

THE  story  of  the  sin  of  a  mother  whose  undue  par- 
tiality for  a  younger  son  impelled  her  to  deny  and 
attempt  to  defraud  her  firstborn,  is  utilized  in  this 
tragic  play  to  show  the  defeat  of  a  fraudulent  design  by 
affection,  and  the  withering  of  worthy  ambitions  by  re- 
morse. Its  characters  fill  important  stations  in  the  so- 
cial life  of  the  haughtiest  days  of  England's  nobility. 
Its  period  is  that  of  the  Spanish  Armada  and  its  catas- 
trophe the  sacrifice  of  wealth  and  title  —  the  things  men 
value  more  than  life.  It  is  rich  in  incident,  sentiment, 
and  situations. 

Poems  which  take  for  their  subject  the  acts  of  per- 
sons previously  distinguished,  more  quickly  win  favor 
than  those  wherein  the  author  creates  his  characters. 
Unknown  heroes  excite  only  a  limited  interest  until  time 
has  enlarged  our  familiarity  with  them  so  as  to  make  an 
impression  of  reality.  The  personages  of  The  Rightful 
Heir  are  unusual  but  enduring  varieties  of  human  life,  ;JP 
but  they  have  not  the  foundation  in  the  actual  which  se-/ 
cures  immediate  faith  in  their  existence. 

The  chief  and  highest  character  is  the  Countess-mother 
whose  preference  for  the  offspring  of  a  second  marriage 
leads  her  to  plot  against  the  firstborn,  and  nearly  causes 
the  destruction  of  both.  The  combination  of  pride,  iron 
will,  and  waxen  heart,  the  opposition  of  an  affection 


358  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

which,  circumstances  surround  with  dignity,  against  a 
love  never  ardent  and  only  revivified  by  admiration  and 
sympathy,  her  ambition  and  her  weakness,  provide  emo- 
tional conflicts  of  an  uncommon  kind.  She  is  proud  of 
her  name,  her  station,  her  ancestry,  her  repute,  and 
haughtily  stern  to  everyone  but  her  favorite  son.  The 
memory  of  her  early  imprudent  marriage  is  reminiscent 
of  humiliation  and  shame ;  the  child  of  her  low-born  hus- 
band never  had  much  of  her  love  nor  any  of  her  atten- 
tion and  his  reported  death  years  ago  was  the  more  read- 
ily credited  because  it  relieved  her  of  the  dread  of  de- 
grading disclosures.  The  child  born  of  more  august 
nuptials  was  hers  entirely,  the  recipient  of  her  care,  the 
reflection  of  her  pride,  the  object  of  her  ambitions,  her 
comfort  and  her  companion.  The  habit  and  custom  of  a 
life  made  the  latter-bom  the  best  beloved. 

When  Vyvian  relates  his  history  she  realizes  that  he 
is  her  son,  that  they  both  have  been  deceived,  cheated, 
and  wronged,  and  her  heart  yearns  to  comfort  and  claim 
him,  but  the  remembrance  of  the  other  to  whom  luxury 
and  wealth  have  become  necessities,  makes  her  resolve  to 
temporize  and  if  need  be  repudiate  the  elder  and  pre- 
serve the  inheritance  for  her  younger  son.  Calling  craft 
to  her  aid  she  seeks  to  hinder  discovery  by  the  lure  of 
marriage  with  Eveline  and  immediate  departure  in  Vy- 
vian *s  ship. 

Thwarted  through  the  machinations  of  the  poor  cou- 
sin, pleaded  with  and  confronted  by  proofs,  her  denials 
and  rejection  grow  weak  before  the  earnestness  and  ten- 
derness of  Vyvian.  And  the  war  of  two  affections  ends 
in  the  displacement  of  the  favorite,  but  the  generosity  of 


THE  RIGHTFUL  HEIR  359 

the  heir  is  as  great  as  his  love ;  he  relinquishes  his  rights. 
He  has  found  the  mother  he  sought  and  that  suffices. 

When  Vyvian's  disappearance  and  Clarence's  dejec- 
tion arouse  in  her  the  fear  that  a  crime  she  suspects  but 
dare  not  name  has  robbed  her  of  one  son  and  imperilled 
the  other  her  emotions  and  anxieties  become  tragically 
intense.  After  all  else  seems  to  have  been  lost  she  would 
yield  up  her  own  life  to  save  that  of  Clarence. 

The  poor  cousin  whose  abilities  were  suppressed  and 
denied  scope  and  opportunity  because  of  his  nearness  to 
a  great  inheritance  is  an  original  and  profoundly  im- 
pressive character.  His  equivocal  position  enables  his 
elders  to  disappoint  his  every  youthful  and  pure  ambi- 
tion and  constrains  him  to  restrict  the  activities  of  an 
aspiring  mind  to  the  services  of  more  fortunate  kinsmen 
whose  mental  inferiority  he  despises.  The  enforced  de- 
pendent condition  makes  him  coveteous,  and  humilia- 
tions to  which  he  is  subjected  embitter  his  disposition. 
The  deference  of  others  to  the  wealth  he  sees  but  does 
not  share,  their  subserviency  to  his  equals,  their  insolence 
to  himself,  make  him  a  scomer  of  all.  His  talents  de- 
generate into  cunning,  his  passions  into  malice,  his  pride 
remains  but  is  shown  now  in  an  ostentatious  obtrusion  of 
his  poverty.  The  earldom  which  has  prevented  his  use- 
ful activity  is  regarded  as  his  due  and  the  lives  whose 
rights  interfere  with  his  are  obstructions  to  be  removed. 
He  employs  his  intellect  in  weaving  plots  to  secure  his 
succession  and  stings  those  who  have  fared  better  than 
himself.  The  apparent  success  of  his  schemes  turns  his 
head,  and  from  indulging  anticipations  of  coming  great- 
ness he  begins  to  fancy  himself  already  in  possession  and 


360  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

rehearses  the  part  as  he  intends  to  play  it,  and  when  all 
his  plans  are  frustrated,  his  scorn  of  humanity  survives 
his  failures  and  he  desires  to  be  buried  in  the  grave  of 
his  dog. 

Vy vian  's  characteristics  partake  of  those  of  the  adven- 
turous men  of  his  day.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  poet,  the 
chivalry  of  the  knight,  and  the  daring  of  the  sea-rover 
blend  in  the  youth  who,  trained  by  a  priest,  was  incited 
to  become  a  sailor  by  wild  tales  of  new-discovered  lands. 
Perplexed  by  mysteries  of  his  life,  yearning  for  knowl- 
edge of  his  parentage,  surviving  misfortunes,  hardships, 
and  danger,  and  acquiring  wealth  despite  all  his  handi- 
caps, the  first  brief  interval  of  rest  is  devoted  to  the  search 
for  his  betrothed  and  enquiring  into  his  birth.  Rejected 
by  the  mother  so  longed  for,  his  tenderness  gives  way  to 
passion  and  he  dares  the  threatened  indignity  with  which 
his  appeal  is  received,  but  when  the  countess,  quailing 
before  his  determination,  admits  his  claim,  his  affection 
resumes  dominance  and  his  native  magnanimity  prompts 
the  surrender  of  all  he  might  claim,  for  wealth  and  title 
he  sought  not,  and  they  are  of  little  worth  compared  to 
the  mother  he  has  gained. 

The  younger  son  is  more  than  a  passive  agent,  haughty, 
imperious,  and  courageous  as  befits  one  taught  to  brook 
no  rival,  to  endure  no  superior,  his  hopes  and  purposes 
are  patriotic  and  lofty,  his  speech  frank  and  undissimu- 
lating,  and,  until  another  is  preferred  by  his  cousin  and 
favored  by  his  mother,  he  is  worthy  of  his  race.  Art- 
fully worked  upon  by  the  poor  cousin  he  forces  a  quarrel 
upon  Vyvian  and  horrified  at  the  unexpected  conse- 
quence becomes  a  prey  to  remorse,  shunning  those  whose 


THE  RIGHTFUL  HEIR  361 

actions  he  had  been  emulous  of  sharing  because  deeming 
himself  the  doer  of  a  dishonorable  deed.  All  that  his 
mother's  fondness  sought  to  secure  him  was  valueless, 
and  he  a  burden  to  himself  until  Vj^vian's  return,  disr 
sipating  dread  and  grief  and  peril,  restored  his  hopes  by 
clearing  his  honor. 

In  the  first  act  Sir  Grrey  de  Malpas,  my  lord's  poor 
cousin,  learns  from  a  hireling  that  the  heir  to  Montre- 
ville,  whose  death  he  had  plotted  years  ago,  is  alive  and 
in  the  neighborhood.  This  is  a  third  between  himself 
and  the  earldom,  and  he  has  again  to  scheme  for  his  re- 
moval. Vyvian,  the  heir,  having  heard  that  fighting  is 
put  off,  but  hoping  that  the  rumor  is  false,  sends  one  of 
his  officers  to  learn  the  truth  from  Drake,  and  occupies 
the  interval  by  endeavoring  to  learn  something  of  his 
birth,  and  visiting  his  betrothed.  To  save  time  he  asks 
his  lieutenant  to  apprise  the  priest  who  reared  him  of 
his  landing  and  then  hastens  to  the  castle  which  is  Eve- 
line's present  home.  The  countess  has  dreamed  of  her 
son  who  died  ten  years  ago,  and  is  perturbed.  Her  fa- 
vorite, Clarence,  asks  about  Eveline  and  is  rebuked.  It 
is  not  meet  that  he  should  haunt  the  steps  of  one  who 
cannot  be  his  wife.  The  young  man  disclaims  all  thought 
of  wedlock  but  wants  the  society  of  their  ward  when  he 
returns  from  hunting,  which  now  attracts  him.  Eveline 
is  warned  by  the  countess  not  to  build  serious  expecta- 
tions on  Clarence's  flattering  attentions,  because  for  him 
high  destinies  are  anticipated.  Sir  G-rey  informs  the 
countess  that  her  eldest  son  is  not  dead  as  was  reported, 
that  he  lives  and  is  coming  hither,  and  that  she  must  de- 


362  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

tain  him  as  guest  until  they  can  arrange  to  secure  and 
destroy  all  proofs  of  his  rights.  Eveline  is  musing  on 
her  absent  lover,  and  wondering  where  he  is,  when  Vy- 
vian  enters  and  answers  her  questions.  The  love  scene 
which  follows  is  ended  by  a  beautiful  eulogy  of  the  sea. 
He  is  introduced  to  the  countess  and  they  enter  the  castle. 

Seated  at  table,  the  sailor  relates  some  of  his  adven- 
tures, jesting  merrily  at  his  misfortunes  but  distressing 
the  countess  by  these  relations,  which  show  the  heartless- 
ness  of  his  parents.  The  recital  of  his  punishment  by 
the  pirates  is  a  magnificent  declamatory  passage.  The 
lovers  are  seen  by  Clarence,  who  is  maliciously  told  by 
Sir  Grey  that  the  stranger's  suit  to  Eveline  is  approved 
by  his  mother.  Clarence  imperiously  interferes,  is  dis- 
regarded by  Vyvian,  and  draws  his  sword,  when  the 
countess  commands  him  to  abstain  from  such  unseemly 
conduct  and  dismisses  Sir  Grey  to  soothe  and  mollify 
him,  then  because  of  this  dangerous  rivalry  she  proposes 
to  Vyvian  that  he  marry  Eveline  at  once,  and  bear  his 
bride  away  in  his  ship.  She  will  in  the  meantime  sharp- 
en law,  explore  the  mystery  of  his  birth,  and  discover 
his  parents.  Thus  the  terror  of  a  mother  will  be  re- 
moved and  Eveline  and  himself  made  happy.  Messen- 
gers bring  Vyvian  news  that  the  Armada  has  sailed  and 
that  he  is  wanted  by  Drake.  The  countess'  plan  cannot 
therefore  be  carried  out;  Vyvian  must  meet  his  foster- 
father,  say  farewell  to  Eveline  and  hurry  to  his  ship. 

Vyvian  learns  from  Alton,  the  priest  who  watched 
over  his  childhood,  that  Lady  Montreville  is  his  mother, 
and  is  given  letters  and  documents  proving  his  birth. 
At  once  he  hastens  back  to  the  castle.    Sir  Grey  discerns 


THE  RIGHTFUL  HEIR  363 

him  advancing  rapidly  and  whispers  to  the  countess  that 
his  eagerness  may  arise  from  having  learned  his  birth 
from  Alton.  She  interrogates  Clarence  as  to  his  willing- 
ness to  accept  a  less  luxurious  station  and  his  answer 
that  if  he  fell  it  would  be  after  the  Roman  fashion  on 
his  sword's  point  hardens  her  resolution  to  defend  all 
for  him.  Sir  Grey  betrays  the  countess'  scheme  to  Clar- 
ence, who  forces  a  quarrel  on  Vyvian,  St.  Kinian's  cliff 
being  selected  as  the  place.  There  Vyvian  hopes  to  clasp 
a  brother,  and  when  Eveline  anxiously  questions  about 
Clarence's  purpose,  he  throws  away  his  sword  and  as- 
sures her  that  both  will  be  safe  for  one  will  be  unarmed. 
Sir  Grey  and  his  hireling  have  heard  all,  and  a  great  pos- 
sibility reveals  itself  to  the  poor  cousin.  His  instrument 
is  instructed  to  track  the  brothers  but  not  to  interfere 
until  in  the  duel  one  is  slain.  Then  his  testimony  will 
convict  the  other  and  this  calamity  will  kill  the  countess 
and  the  poor  cousin  will  become  Earl  of  Montreville. 

In  the  interview  between  Vyvian  and  his  mother,  she, 
determined  to  protect  her  youngest  son  at  all  risks,  de- 
nies the  claim,  and  would  leave  the  presence  of  the  man 
who  declares  himself  her  son.  Before  his  earnestness  and 
proofs  her  resolution  is  weakened,  but  remembering  Clar- 
ence she  turns  fiercely,  denounces  Vyvian  as  an  impostor 
and  calls  her  people  to  eject  him.  Her  rejection  arouses 
his  wrath.  He  defies  her  anger  and  dares  her  threats. 
Realizing  the  certainty  of  injurious  publicity  if  she  per- 
sists, the  countess  dismisses  her  servants  and  becomes  the 
petitioner.  She  confesses  that  he  is  her  son  but  entreats 
him  to  renounce  her  and  accept  a  huge  dowry  with  his 
bride.     He  refuses  to  give  up  the  mother  so  longed  for, 


364  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

and  she,  foreseeing  that  Clarence  will  not  survive  the 
loss  of  all  he  has  been  taught  to  regard  as  his  own,  pre- 
pares to  abandon  all  to  Yyvain  and  bids  him  take  his 
revenge.  Revolted  by  her  unkindness  to  himself,  his  re- 
sentment is  mitigated  by  the  evidence  of  her  tenderness 
for  Clarence,  and  to  the  mother  who  misjudges  his  af- 
fection and  desires,  he  gives  the  papers  which  jeopardize 
her  favorite's  future  and  turns  to  leave  her.  His  gener- 
osity breaks  down  her  determination;  she  acknowledges 
and  blesses  him,  though  aware  that  by  her  act  she  dis- 
possesses Clarence.  But  the  heir  declares  that  her  bless- 
ing was  the  birthright  he  desires  and  having  won  that, 
Clarence  is  welcome  to  all  the  rest  and  they  may  deem 
him  dead.  Clarence  at  the  tryst  impatiently  awaits  his 
rival  and  the  hired  bravo  is  there  to  compass  the  de- 
struction of  the  survivor.  Vyvian's  ship  signals  for  him, 
and  he  is  hastening  towards  it,  but  Clarence  intercepts 
him  and  insists  on  fighting.  Backing  away  from  the 
lifted  sword  the  sailor  loses  his  footing  and  falls  over  the 
cliff;  the  bravo  crawls  after  him.  Vyvian's  ship  sails 
away. 

A  year  later  Alton  discovers  that  Vyvian  was  not 
among  those  who  dispersed  thei  ships  of  Spain  and  seeks 
Sir  Grey  to  learn  what  befell  when  with  the  proofs  of 
his  heirship  Vyvian  came  to  claim  his  mother.  The  poor 
cousin  artfully  increases  the  priest's  suspicions  by  ac- 
quainting Alton  of  the  rivalry  of  the  brothers.  Vyvian 's 
lieutenant,  now  that  war  is  over,  seeks  for  his  missing 
captain,  and  tracking  his  steps  comes  upon  bleaching 
bones  and  articles  of  clothing  belonging  to  Vyvian.  Clar- 
ence has  been  a  different  man  ever  since  the  captain's 


THE  RIGHTFUL  HEIR  365 

visit.  He  has  no  longer  either  joy  in  exercise  or  ambi- 
tion for  enterprise,  and  honors  sought  for  him  by  the 
countess  are  declined  by  the  son  on  the  ground  that  he 
is  unworthy.  His  demeanor  causes  his  mother  to  fear 
that  some  crime  has  wrought  this  alteration  and  she  can- 
not avoid  associating  the  guilt  with  Vyvian's  visit.  The 
constable,  Sir  Geoffrey  Seymour,  has  been  called  to  en- 
quire as  to  the  missing  Vyvian,  and  the  discovered  bones 
have  been  borne  into  the  justice  hall,  to  which  the  coun- 
tess and  her  son  are  summoned.  Sir  Grey  is  active  in 
the  investigation.  With  seeming  reluctance  he  deposes 
to  acts  which  inculpate,  and  elicits  facts  which  make  it 
seem  that  Clarence  is  a  murderer.  The  countess  at- 
tempts to  protect  her  son  but  is  confronted  by  Alton, 
who  asks  if  she  conspired  to  slay  her  firstborn  and  if 
Clarence  knew  that  Vyvian  was  his  brother.  The  young 
man,  horrified,  calls  upon  his  mother  to  confute  the  slan- 
der, but  the  proofs  are  overwhelming,  and  Sir  Grey  is 
about  to  take  his  unfortunate  relations  into  custody  — 
the  step  which  will  make  him  earl  —  when  an  armed  sol- 
dier comes  opportunely,  asserts  that  the  bones  are  those 
of  the  instrument  Sir  Grey  hired  to  commit  murder,  and 
explains  how  Vyvian  escaped  death.  Sir  Grey  in  des- 
peration draws  his  sword,  reasserts  that  Clarence  slew 
Vyvian,  and  offers  to  prove  his  charge  by  battle.  The 
soldier  removes  his  helmet  and  is  recognized  as  Vyvian. 
He  relates  how  after  failing  to  reach  his  ship  he  joined 
Essex's  expedition  and  has  just  returned  a  knight. 
Riches  and  title  he  has  no  need  for,  but  his  bride  and 
his  mother  and  his  brother  will  share  them.  The  world's 
most  royal  heritage  is  his  who  most  enjoys,  most  loves, 
and  most  forgives. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DAENLEY 

UNDER  this  title,  four  acts  of  an  uncompleted  play 
by  Bulwer,  with  an  incongruous  addition  by 
Charles  Coghlan,  were  produced  by  John  Hare 
at  the  Court  Theatre,  October  6,  1877. 

From  internal  evidence  the  work  appears  to  have  been 
written  before  1842,  but  the  possibility  of  a  satisfactory 
production  never  presented  itself  during  the  author's 
lifetime  and  therefore  it  remained  unfinished. 

It  is  a  vigorous  specimen  of  the  playwright's  crafts- 
manship; has  poignant  and  strong  situations  and  the 
characters  give  indications  of  great  possibilities  of  de- 
velopment which  are  never  realized  because  of  the  lack 
of  the  completing  act. 

The  mischief  caused  by  indulging  in  jealousy,  that 
phase  of  lunacy  so  prevalent  with  frivolous  women,  is  the 
theme  of  the  work,  and  the  exposition  of  the  great  in- 
jury resulting  from  this  evil  passion  would  have  furn- 
ished the  binding  interest,  and  supplied  the  material  for 
the  completing  fifth  act. 

Lady  Juliet  is  infected  with  this  form  of  dementia  by 
the  gossip  of  a  designing  relative  and  mistakenly  con- 
cludes that  she  is  wronged  by  her  husband.  She  prompt- 
ly resolves  upon  a  separation.  He,  hiding  the  hurt 
caused  by  this  unexpected  and  undeserved  return  for 
much  toleration  and  indulgence,  consents  to  the  over- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DAKNLEY  367 

throw  of  his  household  hopes,  and  facilitates  the  execu- 
tion of  her  purpose,  but  the  blight  makes  him  indifferent 
to  the  future  and  incapable  of  giving  his  customary  at- 
tention to  his  business  affairs,  which  soon  threaten  to 
involve  him  in  bankruptcy.  Then  he  perceives  the  un- 
wisdom of  allowing  his  love  for  an  unworthy  wife  to 
make  shipwreck  of  his  reputation  and  career,  and  be- 
stirs himself  to  retrieve  his  business  and  fortune,  now  in 
extreme  danger.  Lady  Juliet,  hearing  of  his  reverses, 
with  a  woman's  inconsistency  pawns  all  her  jewels  and 
pays  the  sum  thus  realized  to  his  account.  This  unex- 
pected and  unknown  assistance  staves  off  the  run  on  the 
house  of  Darnley,  and  his  own  energetic  resumption  of 
activity  effects  changes  which  a^ure  an  early  freedom 
from  financial  anxieties,  but  his  confidence  in  himself  is 
gone  and  his  ambition  has  no  further  motive,  and  he  de- 
termines to  abandon  business  and  with  his  daughter 
seek  a  new  home  in  some  foreign  land. 

Only  to  this  point  is  the  story  conducted,  and  modifica- 
tions in  some  of  the  scenes  would  have  been  necessitated 
by  the  concluding  act.  The  fragment  is  but  the  draft 
of  a  play  of  which  some  portions  would  have  received 
elaboration  and  others  condensation,  had  the  work  been 
brought  to  a  symmetrical  completion. 

Sir  Francis  Marsden  is  reading  the  newspapers  when 
Selby  Fyshe  calls  upon  him ;  news,  being  the  concerns  of 
other  people,  has  no  interest  for  this  gentleman  who  fe- 
licitates himself  on  not  being  injured  by  the  calamities 
of  others.  Marsden  craves  excitement,  fighting,  politics, 
gaming,   drinking,  wine,   love,   which   are  all  bores  to 


368  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

Fyshe,  who,  however,  is  impressed  mth  the  tranquil 
qualifications  of  Miss  Placid,  whose  uncle  has  left  her  a 
large  legacy,  half  of  which  she  forfeits  if  she  refuses  to 
marry  him.  Marsden  congratulates  him  and  solicits  his 
good  wishes  regarding  his  Juliet,  which  Fyshe  demurs 
to,  because  Juliet  is  married,  and  joy  is  high  priced  at 
Doctors  Commons.  Juliet  is  the  wife  of  Darnley,  a  well- 
born, scholarly  speculator  who  by  daring  and  originality 
has  acquired  an  enormous  fortune.  To  his  house  Mars- 
den goes. 

Darnley  is  engaged  with  his  head  clerk.  Parsons,  plan- 
ning investments  and  giving  reasons  for  steps  which  Par- 
sons considers  imprudent.  Mainwaring's  school  friend 
and  intimate  companion  wishes  Darnley  would  stop 
money-making  and  give  more  attention  to  domestic  mat- 
ters, and  especially  curb  Lady  Juliet's  extravagauce  and 
the  constant  attentions  of  Marsden.  Darnley  regards  this 
advice  as  the  result  of  the  disappearance  of  his  friend's 
sister,  whose  desertion  worries  and  makes  her  brother 
severe.  Lady  Juliet  and  several  guests  including  Mars- 
den come  to  examine  the  drawings  for  a  new  villa. 
Darnley  disconcerts  Marsden  by  his  irony,  but  when 
they  have  gone  is  half  inclined  to  call  Lady  Juliet  back. 
She  of  her  own  accord  returns,  thinking  he  may  wish 
her  to  stay  at  home,  but  he,  desiring  not  to  be  selfish, 
contents  himself  with  merely  asking  her  to  take  their 
child  with  her.  A  lady  calls  to  see  Darnley,  and  Main- 
waring  is  in  the  way  so  he  is  dismissed  and  Darnley  takes 
upon  himself  the  task  of  finding  shelter  for  her. 

Marsden  learns  from  Fyshe  that  Darnley  has  rented  a 
villa  and  installed  therein  a  young  and  pretty  female 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DARNLEY  369 

whom  he  visits  every  day.  Fyshe  has  an  intei'view  with 
Miss  Placid,  whose  quietness  charms  him.  "When  he 
takes  his  departure  she,  desiring  to  revolt  him,  perceives 
that  her  playing  the  fool  will  not  do,  and  resolves  on  an- 
other course  of  action.  Mainwaring,  whom  she  cares  for, 
is  asked  to  counsel  her,  and  shows  that  he  would  marry 
her  even  without  fortune,  but  he  is  perturbed ;  Dam- 
ley 's  last  and  greatest  venture  has  failed,  and  all  who 
have  demands  upon  him,  chiefly  Lady  Juliet 's  tradesmen, 
are  making  a  run  on  him.  Darnley  tries  to  intercede 
with  Mainwaring  in  his  sister's  behalf  but  is  rebuffed, 
and  urged  again  to  curtail  Lady  Juliet's  expenditures. 
Fanny,  the  daughter,  asks  Darnley  to  go  to  her  mother, 
who  has  just  heard  that  he  has  come  in.  Marsden  is 
with  Lady  Juliet  making  theatrical  love,  when  Darnley 
enters,  and  taking  up  some  of  Marsden 's  phrases  turns 
them  into  ridicule  and  in  sarcasm  describes  Marsden 's 
present  pursuit  under  the  parable  of  a  friend,  and  leaves 
the  room.  Lady  Juliet,  deeply  grieved  that  her  thought- 
less levity  has  stung  her  husband's  heart,  turns  to  dis- 
miss the  cause  of  her  folly,  and  Marsden,  defending  him- 
self and  claiming  that  his  accuser  is  a  hypocrite,  gives 
Julie  the  address  he  learned  from  Fyshe. 

The  Lady  in  the  Villa  is  visited  by  Lady  Juliet,  who 
determines  to  know  the  truth,  makes  vague  charges 
which  are  not  denied,  and  leaves  confirmed  in  her  sus- 
picions. The  run  on  the  bank  continues.  Mainwaring 
takes  all  he  possesses  to  the  head  clerk.  Miss  Placid  pre- 
pares to  shock  Fyshe,  and  rehearses  to  Mainwaring  her 
new  role.  In  the  midst  of  the  relation  of  her  adventures 
at  a  hunt  Fyshe   enters  and  is  dumfounded.       Lady 


a70  PLAYS  OF  BULWER 

Juliet  seeks  Miss  Placid,  announces  her  intention  to  part 
forever  from  Damley,  and  writes  him  a  notification  of 
her  purpose.  Darnley  is  exerting  himself  to  provide 
supplies  to  meet  the  continual  run  when  Lady  Juliet's 
letter  is  brought  in  to  him,  and  his  coolness  and  stoicism 
fail.  News  of  losses  no  longer  affect  him  and  he  is  pre- 
pared to  give  up.  Main  waring 's  counsel  encourages  him 
to  renewed  effort ;  he  makes  preparation  for  the  protec- 
tion of  his  name,  but  his  spirit  is  broken. 

Darnley  seeks  explanation  from  his  wife,  but  her  de- 
termination to  give  no  reasons  prevents  anything  but 
further  complications,  and  her  father  is  sent  for  to  com- 
plete the  details  of  the  separation,  and  Damley  leaves. 
Marsden  comes  and  entreats  her  to  allow  him  to  deserve 
the  affection  her  ingrate  husband  has  cast  away.  Darn- 
ley returns  with  Fanny,  sees  Juliet  weeping,  Marsden 
kneeling,  and  retires.  Mainwaring  enters,  and  outstays 
Marsden,  and  chides  Lady  Juliet  for  listening  to  a  soft 
tongued  knave  when  her  husband  is  on  the  verge  of  ruin, 
ruin  caused  by  her.  She  asks  particulars;  she  will  not 
leave  her  husband  at  present  despite  her  wrongs.  Main- 
waring  tells  her  that  supplies  counted  upon  have  failed, 
and  a  few  thousand  pounds  would  be  worth  more  now  to 
Darnley  than  half  a  million  at  other  times.  Lady  Juliet 
brings  her  jewels,  and  asks  Mainwaring  to  dispose  of 
them  and  get  the  money  to  Damley,  but  never  tell  her 
husband.  Damley  consents  to  the  separation,  leaving  all 
details  to  Lady  Juliet's  father,  but  retaining  Fanny. 
Mainwaring  joyfully  informs  Darnley  that  timely  aid 
has  enabled  the  house  to  meet  all  demands,  and  the  panic 
is  subsiding,  and  also  assures  him  that  Lady  Juliet  re- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DARNLEY  371 

tracts  and  repents.  But  Darnley  is  obdurate  now;  he 
saw  Marsden  at  her  feet,  his  wrongs  he  cannot  forgive ; 
henceforth  his  child  shall  be  the  only  heart  left  him  to 
cherish,  with  her  he  will  go  abroad.  Lady  Juliet,  com- 
ing to  her  husband,  hears  his  words  and  misapplies  them, 
and  as  he  goes  out  she  swoons. 


MONEY 

THIS  comedy  satirizes  a  prevailing  form  of  toler- 
ated despicability,  by  displaying  the  quackeries 
of  one  of  its  successful  practicers,  while  ridiculing 
certain  fashionable  affectations  by  exposing  the  inferior- 
ity of  the  adopters  in  comparison  with  others  who  are 
natural,  unpretentious,  and  unselfish.  Variety  of  charac- 
ter and  felicitous  groupings  of  masses  of  individuals  in 
effective  situatidns  are  its  most  interesting  features,  but 
the  structural  beauty  of  the  work  results  from  the  ade- 
quacy of  the  plot,  the  consistency  of  the  incidents  and 
situations,  and  the  appropriate  language  by  which  the 
purposes  of  the  comedy  are  developed. 

The  characters  are  such  as  flourished  in  1840,  typical 
of  the  time,  sufficiently  marked  for  the  use  of  the  play- 
wright, and  individually  distinct  from  the  ephemera 
which  in  each  generation  supply  illustrations  of  fashion- 
able vagaries. 

The  utterances  of  4J[ie  characters  are  appropriate  to  the 
circumstances  in  which,  they  appear,  action  is  never  re- 
tarded by  conversational  vivacity,  but  bright,  cynical, 
wise,  and  terse  observations  are  frequent,  and  there  are 
occasions  where  the  remarks  of  many  are  ingeniously  in- 
terlaced and  dovetailed. 

The  reading  of  the  will,  which  changes  Evelyn's  fate, 
with  the  alternations  of  feverish  expectancy  and  pro- 


MONEY  373 

found  disgust;  the  courting  scene  where  Lady  Franklin 
successfully  schemes  to  make  the  disconsolate  widower 
laugh,  sing,  and  dance ;  the  game  at  piquet  with  Evelyn 
losing  fabulous  sums  to  Smooth,  and  his  friends  aban- 
doning their  prejudices  against  gambling  in  their  eager- 
ness to  secure  a  share  of  the  plunder  while  the  lone  old 
member  keeps  the  waiter  in  perpetual  journeyings  after 
the  snuffbox ;  and  the  final  collapse  of  Sir  John 's  machi- 
nations, are  the  great  scenes  of  the  comedy,  but  more 
poignant  incidents  are  the  several  interviews  between 
Clara  and  Evelyn  —  when  she  rejects  him,  when  she 
urges  him  to  useful  activity,  and  when  she  defends  her 
refusal  to  drag  him  down  by  marrying  on  nothing. 

Sir  John  Vesey  is  the  most  important  character,  en- 
abled by  his  acquired  reputation  for  respectability  to 
perpetrate  quackeries,  deceits,  and  knaveries  with  as 
much  unction  as  though  they  were  virtuous  actions,  with- 
out drawing  down  the  reprehension  of  his  class ;  a  genu- 
ine whig,  inherently  mendacious,  selfish,  and  hypocritical, 
titled  but  without  honor,  associate  of  learned  societies 
but  neither  studious  nor  erudite,  famed  as  an  orator  but 
incapable  of  composing  a  speech;  less  benevolent  than 
the  poor  dependent,  less  honest  than  the  professional 
gambler  —  the  typical  product  of  nineteenth  century 
political  society,  and  the  evidence  of  the  power  of  a  title 
to  shield  rascality  from  its  deserts,  L  'Avares  and  Tar- 
tuffes  are  neither  so  numerous  nor  so  insidiously  cor- 
rupting as  this  specimen  of  the  modern  man  who  has  suc- 
ceeded, and  who  justifies  to  himself  the  frauds  and  mean- 
nesses he  regards  as  necessary  incidents  in  that  manage- 
ment by  which  he  humbugs  a  world  which  otherwise 


374  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

would  deny  him  the  station  and  prominence  he  has  so 
long  usurped. 

Alfred  Evelyn,  scholar  and  gentleman,  poor  and  there- 
fore imposed  upon  until  an  unexpected  legacy  lifts  him 
above  the  herd  of  his  relatives,  is  a  cynic  in  profession 
but  a  philanthropist  in  practice.  Penury  has  taught  him 
the  value  of  money,  experience  has  familiarized  him  with 
the  crushing  influence  of  circumstances,  and  affection 
has  prompted  to  ambitious  projects.  Able,  practical,  and 
sagacious  in  everything  where  intellect  is  called  into 
play,  but  undiscerning  and  a  blunderer  where  the  heart 
is  concerned,  he  misjudges  the  girl  who  rejected  him  be- 
cause both  were  poor,  and  attributes  nonexistent  gener- 
osity to  the  daughter  of  his  former  oppressor. 

Made  suspicious  by  his  friend's  criticism,  he  resorts 
to  stratagem  to  test  the  sincerity  of  Georgina  and  Sir 
John,  and  finds  that  the  money,  not  the  man,  attracted. 
Professing  friends  fell  away  when  wealth  was  supposed 
exhausted,  while  those  who  had  presumed  to  reprove, 
and  desire  activities  more  suitable  to  his  abilities,  re- 
mained loyal  and  wishful  to  aid.  He  escapes  from  the 
clutches  of  Sir  John  and  his  daughter,  and  is  restored 
to  her  who  thought  more  of  him  than  of  herself  when  she 
refused  to  share  his  poverty. 

There  is  wonderful  variety  in  the  minor  characters. 
Mr.  Graves,  hiding  a  kindly  heart  and  genial  disposi- 
tion under  the  exaggerated  evidences  of  his  grief  for  his 
sainted  Maria,  meanwhile  enjoys  good  sherry,  admires 
fine  women,  and  contrives  to  get  much  good  out  of  life. 
Sir  Frederick  Blount,  who  objects  to  the  letter  R  be- 
cause it  is  too  rough  and  therefore  drops  its  acquaint- 


MONEY  375 

ance ;  Lord  Glossmore,  whose  grandfather  kept  a  pawn- 
broker's shop  and  who  accordingly  entertains  the  pro- 
foundest  contempt  for  everything  plebeian;  Mr.  Stout, 
puffing,  hot,  and  radical,  with  immense  misinformation 
about  political  economy  and  no  clear  opinion  about  any- 
thing; Captain  Smooth,  with  the  mildest  manners  and 
the  deadliest  success  in  duels,  able  to  keep  a  secret,  ready 
to  do  anything  to  oblige,  and  though  a  gambler  evincing 
a  nicer  honor  than  the  pretentious  superior  persons  with 
whom  he  is  brought  in  contact. 

Georgina  Vesey  is  frivolous,  Clara  Douglas  amiable 
and  serious,  but  Lady  Franklin,  experienced,  good-na- 
tured, shrewd,  well-informed,  and  unaffected,  is  the  most 
captivating  of  the  ladies  in  the  comedy. 

Mr.  Graves  has  notified  Sir  John  Vesey  that  at  two 
o'clock  he  will  bring  the  lawyer  to  read  the  will  of  the 
late  Mr.  Mordaunt.  Sir  John,  assuming  confidently  that 
his  daughter  Georgina  will  inherit  the  nabob's  wealth 
and  become  thereby  the  richest  heiress  in  England,  takes 
this  opportunity  to  inform  that  young  lady  that  not- 
withstanding appearances  and  report,  he  is  not  the  rich 
man  he  seems,  that  the  world  judges  men  by  what  they 
appear  to  be,  not  by  what  they  are,  and  that  therefore 
he  humbugs  the  world  by  always  living  above  his  means 
and  taking  credit  for  more  than  he  possesses.  By  man- 
agement he  has  obtained  the  repute  of  being  stingy, 
which  implies  wealth,  but  it  is  all  humbug.  Further,  as 
now  she  will  be  a  great  heiress,  all  thought  of  Sir  Fred- 
erick must  be  dismissed,  and  she  must  look  out  for  a 
duke.  Lady  Franklin  with  her  niece  Clara  joins  them, 
and  they  discuss  the  relatives  of  the  deceased,  until  Sir 


376  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

John's  secretary  enters  and  interrupts  their  satire.  Each 
has  some  errand  or  task  which  needs  Evelyn's  attention 
but  he  cannot  perform  their  commissions  because  his  old 
nurse  is  dying  and  he  wants  some  assistance  for  her. 
He  asks  Sir  John  for  ten  pounds  but  does  not  obtain  it. 
Georgina,  contemplating  sending  something  when  she  re- 
ceives her  legacy,  writes  down  the  poor  woman 's  address. 
Clara  copies  it  unobserved,  and,  Lady  Franklin  assisting 
her,  sends  the  sum  anonymously.  Sir  Frederick  Blount 
enters.  His  manner  to  Clara  is  lacking  in  courtesy,  and 
provokes  Evelyn,  whose  interjections  make  Sir  Freder- 
ict lincomf ortable.  When  he  has  gone,  Evelyn  seeks  to 
compensate  for  the  cavalier  treatment  Clara  has  re- 
ceived by  evidencing  his  own  respect.  He  commiserates 
her  position,  like  his  own,  that  of  a  dependent,  and  pas- 
sion carrying  away  his  reserve,  he  asks  her  to  marry  him, 
and  is  gently  but  firmly  rejected,  because  he  is  poor  and 
she  too.  She  loves  but  will  not  ruin  him.  Stout,  Gloss- 
more  and  presently  Graves  and  the  lawyer  arrive,  and 
Sir  John  dismisses  his  secretary  so  that  they  may  get  to 
business.  The  lawyer  observes  that  all  the  relatives 
should  be  present  and  bids  Evelyn  be  seated.  The  will 
is  read.  The  testator  has  indulged  a  bitter  ironical  spirit 
in  his  bequests,  most  of  which  cause  disappointment  and 
indignation  in  the  recipients,  but  to  Georgina  he  leaves 
ten  thousand  pounds,  to  Graves  five  thousand,  and  all  the 
residue  to  Alfred  Evelyn,  whose  wealth  now  separates 
him  from  Clara  more  than  his  poverty  did.  Those  who 
had  hitherto  been  condescending  to  the  poor  secretary, 
become  effusively  kind  to  the  heir,  and  when  he  asks  for 
ten  pounds  for  his  old  uurse  every  man  offers  it. 


MONEY  377 

The  anteroom  of  Evelyn's  new  house  is  crowded  with 
artists,  publishers,  builders,  and  the  tradesmen  whom 
wealth  attracts.  Stout,  the  explosive,  vigorous  radical, 
bursts  in,  having  heard  that  Evelyn  has  bought  the  great 
Groginhole  property.  The  member  for  that  borough 
cannot  live  another  month  and  Stout  wants  the  new  pro- 
prietor to  support  Popkins.  Glossmore,  with  the  same 
information,  solicits  his  interest  for  Lord  Cipher.  Ev- 
elyn bids  them  go  and  play  at  battledore  and  shuttlecock 
by  themselves.  Graves  is  the  most  cordially  valued  of 
all  Evelyn's  new  friends  and  to  him,  after  cataloguing 
the  miseries  of  life,  Evelyn  relates  his  early  harsh  ex- 
periences and'  even  his  rejection  by  Clara,  in  revenge  for 
which  he  has  pretended  that  in  a  letter  which  accom- 
panied the  will  Mr.  Mordaunt  had  ordered  the  payment 
of  twenty  thousand  pounds  to  Clara  Douglas,  which 
amount  has  been  given  to  the  woman  who  refused  him. 
Mr.  Mordaunt  had  expressed  the  desire  that  Evelyn 
should  choose  one  of  his  two  cousins  for  wife,  and  as 
Clara  had  declined  his  hand,  and  his  nurse  had  received 
ten  pounds  anonymously  and  only  Georgina  knew  her 
address,  he  concludes  that  he  is  in  duty  bound  to  pro- 
pose to  Sir  John's  daughter.  Sir  John  overhears  Lady 
Franklin  conversing  with  Clara  and  learns  of  the  send- 
ing of  the  money.  Dudley  Smooth,  a  successful  gambler 
and  a  dead  shot,  is  introduced  and  Sir  Frederick  asks 
Evelyn's  good  offices  in  his  suit  for  Clara,  for  Georgina 
now  pretends  a  prior  attachment.  Sir  John  represents 
to  Evelyn  that  Georgina,  at  some  sacrifice,  sent  relief 
to  his  nurse  and  that  apparent  fact  decides  Evelyn.  He 
proposes  to  Georgina  and  is  accepted. 


378  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

Evelyn  has  not  pressed  the  fixing  of  the  wedding  day ; 
he  seldom  conies  to  the  house,  and  Sir  John  is  uneasy. 
He  determines  to  get  Clara  out  of  the  way  and  to  that 
end  he  tells  her  that  lest  it  might  embarrass  her  he  let 
Evelyn  suppose  that  Georgina  sent  that  letter  and  he 
pleads  his  interest  in  his  daughter's  happiness  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  suggesting  that  Clara,  whose  presence  keeps 
Evelyn  away,  could  accompany  Mrs.  Carleton  abroad. 
Clara  is  miserable,  hails  the  opportunity  and  agrees  to 
the  proposition.  Meeting  Evelyn  she  informs  him  of  her 
plans,  thanks  him  for  past  kindnesses,  asks  that  they 
part  friends,  and  as  a  sister  to  a  brother  begs  that  he  will 
use  his  benevolence,  his  intellect,  his  genius  so  that  she 
may  always  recall  with  pride  that  once  this  man  loved 
her.  Graves  thinks  that  Evelyn  has  been  too  hasty,  hints 
that  Georgina  cares  more  for  Sir  Frederick,  whom  Clara 
has  refused,  than  for  him,  and  leads  Evelyn  to  perceive 
that  he  has  been  duped  by  Sir  John,  who  is  immensely 
fond  of  his  prospective  son-in-law's  money.  Evelyn  de- 
termines to  beat  Sir  John  at  his  own  weapons ;  he  there- 
fore) recants  his  promise  to  foreswear  gambling  and  pre- 
tends to  disregard  certain  important  information  regard- 
ing banks.  Lady  Franklin  receives  Graves  in  her  boudoir, 
and  in  the  way  of  a  widow  with  a  man  cajoles  him  into 
laughing,  declaiming,  singing,  and  dancing.  Just  as  he 
is  proposing  and  about  to  embrace  her,  a  troop  of  their 
friends  enter.  The  lady  escapes  and  Graves  stops  in 
front  of  Sir  John.  Their  mirth  is  resented  and  Graves 
leaves  in  anger.  At  the  club  Evelyn  is  engaged  in  play. 
He  bargains  with  Smooth  that  they  will  pretend  to  gam- 
ble for  enormous  stakes  to  the  end  that  Sir  John's  sin- 


MONEY  379 

cerity  may  be  tested.  The  play  is  so  high  that  all  watch. 
Sir  John  is  in  agony.  After  tremendous  losses  Evelyn 
proposes  to  make  a  night  of  it  and  they  adjourn  to  his 
own  house  in  spite  of  Sir  John's  entreaties. 

In  the  anteroom  the  tradesmen  and  other  gnats  are  re- 
gretfully commenting  on  their  patron's  transference  of 
the  privilege  of  ruining  him  to  gamblers.  Evelyn's  bad 
luck  continues  and  it  becomes  evident  that  after  losing 
all  else  he  has  staked  his  house  on  the  odd  trick,  and  lost. 
The  tailor  arranges  to  arrest  Evelyn  as  an  absconding 
debtor  because  he  overhears  that  a  passport  for  Belgium 
has  been  procured.  Evelyn  borrows  from  Sir  John,  Sir 
Frederick,  and  Glossmore.  He  announces  that  he  is 
through  with  Smooth,  but  is  crippled  and  must  retrench 
and  he  asks  Georgina  to  advance  him  the  ten  thousand 
pounds  bequeathed  to  her.  That  discreet  young  lady 
will  let  him  hear  from  her  tomorrow.  Evelyn  questions 
his  friends  if  in  the  twelve  months  since  he  became  rich 
he  could  have  spent  his  money  in  a  way  more  worthy  of 
their  good  opinion.  They  answer  no  emphatically.  The 
lawyer  whispers  to  Evelyn,  ''The  bank's  broke."  He 
repeats  the  words  in  a  frightened  voice.  Simultaneously 
he  finds  there  is  an  execution  in  the  house,  and  opinions 
change.  Sir  John  demands  the  return  of  his  loan,  and  all 
save  Smooth  and  Graves  abuse  Evelyn  and  depart  in  dis- 
gust. 

At  the  club  Glossmore  receives  a  despatch  acquainting 
him  that  Evelyn  has  been  nominated  for  Groginhole. 
He  despairs  of  the  country  if  men  of  unknown  principles 
are  to  make  its  laws,  and  considers  it  infamous  in  a 
bankrupt  to  get  into  parliament  just  to  keep  out  of  pris- 


380  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

on.  Sir  John  makes  it  up  with  Sir  Frederick;  he  will 
not  sacrifice  his  daughter 's  happiness  to  ambition,  there- 
fore at  dinner  tonight  they  will  talk  over  the  settlements. 
Her  ten  thousand  pounds  is  to  remain  her  own,  which  is 
not  agreeable  to  Sir  Frederick,  who  wonders  if  it 
wouldn  't  be  better  to  elope  with  Georgina.  Stout,  more 
heated  than  usual,  informs  Sir  John  that  Evelyn  has 
played  a  trick  on  them ;  he  hasn't  lost  any  money  to  speak 
of ;  the  Groginhole  purchase  has  been  completed  and  be- 
fore the  day  is  over  he  will  be  a  member  of  Parliament. 
Sir  John  promptly  revokes  his  promise  to  Sir  Frederick 
and  sets  about  strengthening  his  claims  on  Evelyn.  Sir 
Frederick,  roused  to  anger,  determines  to  induce  Georg- 
ina, with  whom  he  has  an  appointment,  to  elope.  Graves 
is  questioned  by  Clara  as  to  Evelyn's  reverses  and  how 
he  bears  them.  Having  heard  from  Georgina  that  ten 
thousand  pounds  will  free  him  from  all  liabilities  she 
has  paid  that  amount  to  his  credit.  Graves  assures  her 
that  it  is  not  Georgina  that  Evelyn  cares  for,  tells  her 
that  Evelyn  concocted  the  story  about  her  bequest,  and 
encourages  her  to  hope  that  all  will  come  right,  for 
Georgina  will  prove  herself  Sir  John's  daughter.  Clara, 
anxious  that  when  others  desert  she  should  not  be  classed 
with  such  false  friends,  induces  Lady  Franklin  to  ac- 
company her  to  her  cousin 's  house.  There  Evelyn  is  dis- 
cussing affairs  with  Graves,  pointing  out  that  it  was  not 
regarded  as  wrong  for  him  to  gamble,  the  crime  consisted 
in  losing.  Graves  offers  to  assist  his  friend  financially 
and  Evelyn  confides  to  him  that  his  losses  have  been 
trivial,  that  all  has  been  a  pretense  to  test  Sir  John  and 
Georgina  and  see  whether  it  was  the  money  or  the  man 


MONEY  381 

they  cared  for.  A  letter  is  brought  notifying  Evelyn 
that  ten  thousand  pounds  has  been  placed  to  his  credit, 
and  concluding  that  Georgina  is  the  donor  and  that  his 
suspicions  have  wronged  her,  he  writes  to  undeceive  her 
as  to  his  supposed  losses,  and  binds  himself  irrevocably 
by  asking  her  to  fix  the  day  for  their  wedding.  Lady 
Franklin  and  Clara  come.  Graves  regrets  that  they  are 
too  late,  as  whatever  is  good  for  anything  generally  is. 
Sir  John  enters  beaming  and  effusive  and  announces  that 
they  will  all  lend  him  any  amount  he  requires  and  that 
Georgina  insists  upon  giving  him  the  required  sum.  He 
is  perplexed  to  learn  that  it  has  already  been  received 
and  an  answer  sent.  He  beseeches  Lady  Franklin  to 
search  for  Georgina,  whom  he  has  not  been  able  to  find. 
A  deputation  confirms  the  news  of  Evelyn's  election  for 
Groginhole  and  Sir  John  elicits  from  the  lawyer  that  the 
gambling  losses  amounted  to  less  than  a  week's  income, 
and  hugs  himself  on  having  caught  Evelyn  in  his  own 
trap.  Lady  Franklin  returns,  bringing  Georgina  and 
Sir  Frederick  with  her.  Evelyn,  preventing  Sir  John 
from  communicating  with  his  daughter,  asks  Georgina  if 
she  is  still  willing  to  marry  him.  She  answers  that  his 
fortune  dazzled  her ;  she  pities  his  reverses ;  life  is  noth- 
ing without  money,  and  as  their  engagement  is  annulled 
—  as  papa  told  her  —  she  has  promised  her  hand  where 
she  has  given  her  heart,  to  Sir  Frederick.  Evelyn  pro- 
duces the  letters  on  the  strength  of  which  he  proposed 
and  asks  their  meaning.  Lady  Franklin  explains  that 
her  maid  wrote  them  at  Clara's  request.  Eveljoi  is  free 
and  at  once  claims  Clara  as  his  wife.  Sir  John  is  furi- 
ous, scolds  Georgina,  and  denounces  Lady  Franklin  un- 


382  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

til  he  learns  that  his  daughter  was  on  the  point  of  elop- 
ing to  Scotland.  Evelyn  doubles;  Georgina's  legacy  and 
a  match  is  made  between  her  and  Sir  Frederick.  Lady 
Franklin  accepts  Graves  and  they  undertake  to  finish 
their  reel  on  their  wedding  day. 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM 

THIS  title  was  given  by  Charles  Dickens  to  a  com- 
edy written  by  Bulwer  for  performance  by  a  com- 
pany of  amateurs  whose  oddities  of  speech,  bear- 
ing, and  demeanor  were  transferred  to  the  figures  in- 
vented for  them,  as  were  also,  in  some  instances,  salient 
characteristics  of  the  players.  Wilmot,  like  Dickens, 
' '  with  heart  as  large  as  his  genius, ' '  was  better  known  to 
the  many  because  of  negligible  affectations  and  obtruded 
foibles  than  by  his  natural  goodness  and  geniality,  and 
Forster  had  Hardman's  failing  of  occasionally  allowing 
his  zeal  to  outrun  his  prudence. 

The  limited  histrionic  experiences  of  these  players  had 
to  be  taken  into  account  in  the  invention  and  arrange- 
ment of  incidents  and  business.  Subtleties  and  intensi- 
ties in  effects  and  situations  are  avoided,  and  the  fem- 
inine interest  is  of  the  slightest  proportions.  The  com- 
edy called  for  all  the  skill  and  adroitness  of  the  actors, 
and  gave  excellent  opportunities  for  the  display  of  their 
ability  in  an  unfamiliar  art,  without  inviting  failure  by 
too  high  an  aim. 

"  The  illusion  of  remoteness  was  obtained  by  casting  the 
comedy  in  the  time  of  George  the  First,  and  the  greatest 
artists  of  the  day  cooperated  in  ensuring  faithfulness  in 
the  details  of  scenery,  furniture,  and  costume  when  it 
was  first  performed. 

The  language  is  terse  and  fluent,  sometimes  delicately 


384  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

touclied  with  satire,  often  rising  to  fervor,  and  the  situ- 
ations amuse,  compel  attention,  and  arouse  admiration. 
As  the  action  progresses  the  characters  develop,  and  ami- 
able and  admirable  traits  are  shown  in  all.  Each  collision 
of  antagonism  in  purpose  and  disposition  has  an  amend- 
ing result.  The  foibles  inviting  ridicule  are  found  to  be 
mere  trivial  accompaniments  of  praiseworthy  qualities, 
and  it  is  revealed  that  there  is  more  of  good  in  every  man 
than  our  superficial  judgments  acknowledge.  Therefore 
it  heightens  our  regard  for  human  nature  and  has  an 
ennobling  effect. 

Not  So  Bad  As  We  Seem  was  first  produced  at  Devon- 
shire House,  May  16,  1851.  It  was  afterwards  played 
by  Mr.  Webster's  company  at  the  Haymarket. 

Wilmot  is  the  principal  character,  the  admired  leader 
of  the  mode,  masking  by  a  pretense  of  heartlessness,  cyn- 
icism, and  levity,  a  quick  sympathy  with  the  noble  and 
aspiring,  an  eager  activity  in  beneficent  deeds,  and  an 
unselfish  readiness  to  assist  less  fortunate  individuals. 

Hardman  is  sterner  and  less  amiable  than  his  friend, 
and  his  ambition  and  selfwill  nearly  turn  to  evil  a  dis- 
position prone  to  overvalue  practical  success.  With  the 
ability  to  discern  what  is  right,  and  with  eloquence  to 
move  others  to  noble  action,  he  plays  the  sophist  with 
himself  and  contemplates  a  resort  to  treachery.  Sur- 
prised at  finding  unexpected  goodness  in  others,  and  re- 
alizing the  unfavorable  comparison  his  own  conduct  sug- 
gests, better  desires  are  awakened  in  him  and  as  a  first 
step  to  becoming  actively  useful  to  humanity  he  changes 
his  intention,  aids  those  he  had  planned  to  injure,  and 
enjoys  the  happiest  moment  he  has  ever  known. 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM  385 

Next  to  Wilmot,  Sir  Geoffrey  is  the  best  of  the  charac- 
ters. Early  experiences  of  man's  duplicity  and  deceit 
have  made  distrust  habitual  to  him,  and  he  is  suspicious 
of  eveiything.  His  wrongs  have  made  him  reserved  but 
not  sullen,  the  injuries  he  has  received  have  embittered 
his  life,  without  making  him  revengeful.  He  is  unable 
to  suppress  his  inherent  kindliness  and  generosity,  and 
however  droll  his  imaginary  dangers  and  the  fears  they 
cause  may  make  him  appear,  his  shrewdness,  wisdom,  and 
greatheartedness  win  respect  and  admiration. 

The  duke  of  Middlesex  carries  pride  to  the  boundary 
of  the  absurd,  yet  is  nevertheless  more  than  a  grandiose 
figure.  In  his  interview  with  Hardman,  where  the  honor 
of  a  woman  is  in  question,  he  rises  to  the  sublime. 

The  distressed  poet  is  a  pitiful  yet  ennobling  portrait 
of  unfriended  and  neglected  genius.  Ambitious  to  per- 
fect a  worthy  legacy  to  his  country,  he  is  compelled  to 
write  pamphlets  instead,  and  scarcely  able  to  support 
his  family  by  his  own  toils  he  yet  resists  the  temptation 
to  sell  the  scandalous  composition  of  another  for  the 
high  price  the  publishers  offer.  In  a  work  designed  to 
emphasize  the  importance  of  the  literary  calling,  it  was 
necessary  to  place  its  representative  in  a  favorable  light, 
and  David  Fallen  portrays  the  professional  author,  not 
as  he  is,  or  has  been,  but  as  he  should  be. 

Lord  Wilmot,  rising  late,  finds  that  he  has  no  duels 
awaiting  him,  and  less  than  a  score  of  social  engage- 
ments, and  therefore  a  dull  day  confronts  him.  A  lady 
who  professes  interest  in  Sir  Geoffrey  Thomside  and  his 
daughter  and  wishes  to  communicate  with  Miss  Thorn- 


386  COMEDIES  OP  BULWER 

side,  applies  to  Wilmot  to  assist  her.  Their  interview 
being  interrupted  by  another  visitor,  she  leaves  hurried- 
ly, appointing  the  evening  for  a  fuller  explanation.  Mr. 
Shadowly  Softhead,  an  imitator  of  his  lordship,  is  the 
caller.  He  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  neither  strong 
nor  wise,  yet  ambitious  to  be  thought  as  daring  and  wild 
as  the  exquisite  he  copies.  Hardman,  a  rising  politician, 
conies  to  secure  Wilmot  *s  support  for  the  government, 
but  finds  that  his  lordship  is  more  attracted  by  art  than 
politics  and  has  just  bought  a  superb  Murillo,  the  very 
thing  Walpole  most  desires.  Hardman 's  punctilious 
formality  is  disagreeable  to  Wilmot,  who  wants  to  forget 
he  is  a  lord,  in  his  bachelor's  apartments,  and  he  de- 
clares that  if  a  duke  called  upon  him  he  would  dispense 
with  all  titles  and  call  him  by  his  name.  The  valet  an- 
nounces his  grace  the  duke  of  Middlesex  and  to  justify 
his  boast,  Wilmot  accosts  his  visitor  as  Middlesex,  an  im- 
pertinence which  Softhead  imitates,  to  the  consternation 
of  the  duke.  Hardman  takes  Softhead  out  of  the  room, 
and  Wilmot  explains  and  apologizes  for  his  assumption 
of  familiarity.  The  duke  is  anxious  about  a  scandalous 
narrative  written  by  his  sarcastic  brother  and  reflecting 
injuriously  on  himself,  which  he  is  told  is  about  to  be 
published,  but  the  purpose  of  his  call  is  to  invite  Wilmot 
to  join  in  a  project  for  restoring  James  the  Third  to  the 
throne.  Wilmot  undertakes  to  gain  possession  of  the 
dreaded  manuscript  but  he  declines  to  assist  in  what 
would  cause  civil  war,  and  the  duke  takes  his  leave  re- 
gretting that  he  mistook  the  son  of  Lord  Loftus.  Wil- 
mot is  perturbed  by  the  reference  to  his  father,  who  may 
be  compromising  himself  in  a  conspiracy,  and  he  en- 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM  387 

treats  Hardman,  who  has  a  knack  of  finding  out  every- 
thing, to  sound  Lord  Loftus  and  learn  if  he  is  being 
lured  into  treason. 

Sir  Geoffrey  manifests  an  aversion  to  Wilmot,  and  in- 
terposes obstacles  to  his  meeting  Lucy.  In  order  to  put 
the  father  on  a  wrong  scent,  Wilmot  arranges  that  Soft- 
head shall  make  pretended  love  to  Miss  Thomside  while 
Sir  Geoffrey  is  present,  and  he  will  devote  his  attentions 
to  Miss  Easy,  whom  Softhead  worships,  and  they  pro- 
ceed to  the  Thornside  home. 

Sir  Geo^rey  is  distressed  because  the  dog  howled  last 
night,  and  his  servant's  behavior  makes  him  apprehen- 
sive of  designs  on  his  peace,  and  some  enemy  must  be 
plotting  against  his  life  because  every  day  flowers  are 
thrown  into  his  room.  Mr.  Easy  and  his  daughter  come 
to  visit  Lucy,  and  Sir  Geoffrey  confides  his  fears  to  his 
friend.  Mr.  Easy  suggests  that  the  flowers  come  from 
a  female  admirer,  or  are  intended  for  Lucy,  who  may 
have  attracted  some  one  who  takes  this  method  of  show- 
ing attention.  This  reminds  Sir  Geoffrey  of  Lord  Wil- 
mot, who  persists  in  calling  despite  every  rebuff,  and 
who  may  mean  making  love  to  Lucy,  which  Easy  thinks 
the  only  likely  suspicion  his  friend  has  hit  on  for  many 
a  day.  He  has  heard  of  Wilmot,  who  is  rather  a  madcap, 
but  adored  by  his  companions,  and  Softhead  professes 
to  copy  him;  he  incenses  Sir  Geoffrey  by  wishing  him 
joy,  for  the  knight  has  other  designs  for  his  daughter. 
Lord  Wilmot  and  Softhead  call.  They  devote  them- 
selves to  Lucy  and  Barbara  according  to  their  prear- 
rangement.  Easy  is  delighted  to  observe  Wilmot 's  at- 
tention to  his  daughter,  and  visions  of  her  as  my  lady 


388  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

and  himself  as  member  for  the  city  loom  before  him,  and 
he  facilitates  the  stratagem  of  the  visitors  by  enticing 
Sir  Geoffrey  from  the  room.  As  soon  as  the  fathers  have 
gone  the  partners  are  changed,  but  a  return  to  the  pre- 
vious alliance  is  necessitated  by  the  entrance  of  Hard- 
man,  who  intends  to  marry  Lucy,  and  fears  a  rival  in 
Wilmot,  but  he  is  deceived  by  the  pretended  attentions 
and  concludes  that  it  is  Barbara  who  is  preferred  by  his 
friend.  Miss  Easy  agrees  to  aid  Wilmot  on  condition 
that  Softhead  is  sent  back  to  the  city  and  reconciled  to 
her  father,  but  she  is  afraid  that  this  is  no  longer  pos- 
sible for  Mr.  Easy  is  severe  on  social  indulgences  and 
dislikes  men  who  make  themselves  absurd  by  aping  those 
of  another  class.  Wilmot  determines  to  test  Mr.  Easy's 
severity  and  invites  him  to  Wills  Coffee  house. 

Easy,  despite  his  prejudices,  contrives  to  advertise  to 
all  his  acquaintances  the  fact  that  he  is  to  meet  his  friend 
Lord  Wilmot.  Hardman  has  asked  for  an  office  in  the 
gift  of  the  minister  and  is  expectant  but  anxious.  From 
David  Fallen  he  will  learn  about  the  new  plot.  Lords 
Middlesex  and  Loftus  are  engaged  with  the  pamphleteer, 
a  requisition  is  ready  for  conveyance  to  France,  and  a 
messenger  is  to  be  procured  by  Fallen  to  whom  Middle- 
sex will  deliver  the  document  at  an  appointed  place. 
When  the  noblemen  depart,  Fallen  acquaints  Hardman 
of  the  arrangements  and  leaves  to  him,  the  choice  of  a 
messenger.  Walpole  writes  expressing  regret  that  the 
place  asked  for  is  needed  to  conciliate  a  family  other- 
wise dangerous.  Wilmot  introduces  Softhead  to  some  of 
his  friends  whom  he  represents  as  fire-eaters  and  duel- 
lists, and  in  whose  company  he  leaves  him,  while  he 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM  389 

gathers  from  Tonson,  the  publisher,  particulars  of  Lord 
Mowbray 's  memoirs  and  the  address  of  the  poor  poet  who 
has  them  in  his  custody.  Hardman,  bitter  and  resent- 
ful, confides  to  Wilmot  his  disappointment,  but  for  w^hich 
he  would  have  had  courage  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  one 
long-beloved  but  above  him  in  station  and  birth,  and  he 
contrasts  his  position  with  that  of  his  friend,  who  need 
fear  no  rebuff  where  he  places  his  affections.  Wilmot 
stuns  him  by  confessing  that  it  is  to  Lucy  and  not  Bar- 
bara that  he  has  lost  his  heart.  Hardman  determines  to 
crush  his  rival  by  means  of  his  knowledge  of  the  plot  in 
which  Lord  Lof tus  is  compromised,  and  hastens  away  to 
possess  himself  of  the  papers  intended  for  conveyance  to 
France.  Wilmot,  grieved  that  his  friend  should  lose  the 
woman  he  loves  for  want  of  a  pitiful  place,  resolves  to 
gain  it  for  him  by  giving  Walpole  his  Murillo,  and  for 
that  purpose  he  drives  to  the  minister's  house. 

Lucy  prefers  to  be  unhappy  rather  than  to  deceive 
her  father,  and  therefore  acquaints  him  that  it  is  not 
Barbara  but  herself  whom  Lord  Wilmot  comes  to  see. 
Hardman  later  informs  Sir  Geoffrey  that  Wilmot  has  no 
thought  of  Mr.  Easy's  daughter,  and  undertakes  to  find 
out  the  sender  of  the  flowers. 

After  dinner  at  Wills  Coffee  house,  Easy,  hilarious, 
musical,  and  oratorical,  Softhead,  abject,  sorrowful,  and 
lachrymose,  and  Wilmot,  sober  but  affecting  inebriety, 
are  on  their  way  home.  Easy  promises  Barbara  to  Soft- 
head since  Wilmot  is  preengaged,  and  then  upsetting  a 
watchman  and  securing  possession  of  his  rattle,  he  im- 
agines himself  a  successful  contestant  for  the  city's  rep- 
resentation, and  emphasizing  his  speech  of  thanks  springs 


390  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

his  rattle,  which  brin^  other  watchmen  who  carry  him 
to  the  guardhouse,  he  all  the  while  believing  he  is  being 
chaired  member  for  the  city.  Wilmot  describes  the  house 
they  are  to  visit,  as  devoted  to  dreadful  purposes,  and 
so  terrifies  Softhead  that  he  runs  home,  and  Wilmot  en- 
ters alone. 

Sir  Geoffrey  has  conceived  a  new  suspicion  and  fancy- 
ing that  the  annoyances  to  which  he  is  subjected  orig- 
inate with  an  old  enemy,  he  resolves  that  he  will  find  and 
fight  this  foe,  and  as  he  may  receive  death  instead  of 
dealing  it,  he  must  at  once  secure  a  protector  for  Lucy, 
therefore  he  must  hasten  her  marriage  with  Hardman, 
whom  he  has  chosen  for  her,  whose  career  he  has  secretly 
furthered  and  whose  worth  he  will  judge  by  the  candor 
with  which  he  answers  certain  questions.  Hardman 's 
replies,  while  attributing  all  his  successes  to  his  own  un- 
aided efforts  and  ability,  satisfy  Sir  Geoffrey,  although 
every  step,  save  the  latest,  in  the  progress  so  proudly  set 
forth  was  smoothed  for  him  by  his  benefactor.  The  last 
honor  received  today  is  the  government  appointment 
previously  refused.  He  is  told  to  win  Lucy's  consent 
and  soon,  because  Sir  Geoffrey  is  determined  to  fight  his 
insulter.  Hardman  assures  him  that  the  man  he  ac- 
cuses died  two  months  ago.  He  recalls  that  the  memoirs 
bequeathed  to  Fallen  may  put  a  different  construction 
on  the  acts  which  Sir  Geoffrey  deems  so  unforgivable 
and  he  goes  to  secure  the  memoirs. 

David  Fallen  in  his  garret,  endeavoring  to  write  while 
worried  for  the  wherewithal  for  food,  is  visited  by  Wil- 
mot, who  personates  Edmund  Currl.  The  mock  pub- 
lisher declines  to  buy  the  poem  Fallen  regards  as  his 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM  391 

greatest  book  but  offers  a  large  sum  for  the  papers  of 
Lord  Mowbray.  Despite  his  needs  the  poet  refuses  to  al- 
low writings  which  would  cause  pain  to  many  to  be  given 
to  the  public.  The  pretended  publisher  changes  his  at- 
tack and  represents  himself  as  the  agent  of  the  Duke  of 
Middlesex.  Fallen  has  cause  to  resent  the  neglect  and 
contempt  with  which  the  duke  has  treated  him.  These 
memoirs  would  make  the  proud  duke  the  jeer  of  the 
town,  but  he  will  not  sell  scandal  even  to  the  head  of  the 
Mowbrays  nor  will  he  be  the  instrument  of  a  brother's 
revenge ;  he  will  retain  the  confessions.  Then,  revealing 
himself,  Wilmot  apologizes  for  his  deception,  and  asks 
for  the  papers  not  as  a  matter  of  price,  but  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  nobility  of  the  poet  who  can  humble  by  a 
gift  the  prince  who  insulted  him  by  alms,  and  having  re- 
ceived the  memoirs  Wilmot  begs  Fallen's  acceptance  of 
an  annuity  from  him.  Hardman  hears  with  dismay  that 
the  confessions  he  needs  are  now  in  the  hands  of  the 
duke.  He  learns  enough  of  the  contents  to  see  that  Sir 
Geoffrey  has  been  mistaken  and  perceives  that  it  is  the 
attempts  of  Lucy's  mother  to  attract  her  daughter's  at- 
tention which  have  perturbed  the  Thornside  home.  Turn- 
ing to  the  Jacobite  plot,  Hardman  arranges  to  supply 
the  messenger  and  thus  receive  the  incriminating  docu- 
ments. 

Softhead  acquires  knowledge  of  the  bribery  of  the 
prime  minister  which  secured  Hardman  his  appoint- 
ment, and  is  confirmed  in  his  purpose  to  quit  fashionable 
life,  but  perceiving  Lucy  and  Wilmot  entering  the  house 
he  has  been  taught  to  dread  he  becomes  alarmed,  and 
not  finding  Sir  Geoffrey  at  home,  he  seeks  Hardman  and 


392  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

confides  his  fears  to  him.  Hardman  has  secured  the 
requisition  of  the  plotters,  and  he  has  successfully  ap- 
pealed to  the  heart  of  the  proud  duke,  who  has  promised 
to  produce  his  brother's  confessions,  and  he  sees  that 
Wilmot  has  forestalled  his  plan  and  led  the  daughter  to 
the  mother's  arms.  He  sends  Softhead  for  officers  and 
for  Sir  Geoffrey,  who  is  with  Mr.  Easy,  and  then  enters 
the  house  and  accosting  Wilmot  proclaims  his  rivalry, 
exhibits  the  proof  of  Lord  Loftus'  treason,  and  exacts  as 
the  price  of  the  surrender  of  that  document  the  with- 
drawal of  Wilmot 's  suit  to  Lucy,  and  the  personal  at- 
tendance of  both  the  conspiring  lords.  To  Lucy  he  prom- 
ises the  restoration  of  her  mother  to  the  hearth  of  her 
father,  but  at  the  price  of  her  hand,  and  he  has  just 
wrung  this  pledge  from  her,  when  Sir  Geoffrey  and  his 
friends  arrive.  Hardman  is  thanked  for  having  saved 
Lucy  and  thus  requited  the  kindnesses  and  preferments 
which  have  been  rendered  in  secret  to  him,  and  when  he 
protests  that  no  man  has  ever  aided  him,  that  alone  he 
has  carved  out  his  own  pathway,  Mr.  Easy  confounds 
him  by  detailing  the  interference  of  Sir  Geoffrey,  which 
made  each  step  save  the  last  one  possible,  and  Softhead 
tells  him  how  Wilmot  secured  that  for  him.  Hardman, 
perceiving  that  all  have  been  beneficent  to  him,  becomes 
ashamed  of  his  planned  treachery  and  changes  his  pur- 
poses. He  explains  to  Sir  Geoffrey  that  Lucy  was  but 
led  to  her  mother,  that  that  mother  had  been  maligned, 
and  he  produces  as  the  proofs  of  her  innocence  the  con- 
fession of  Lord  Henry  Mowbray,  the  authenticity  of 
which  Lord  Middlesex  attests.  Sir  Geoffrey,  convinced 
of  his  wrongful  suspicions,  goes  to  ask  forgiveness,  Wil- 


NOT  SO  BAD  AS  WE  SEEM  393 

mot  fulfils  his  ag^reement  with  Barbara  by  winning 
Easy's  confirmation  of  his  yesterday's  promise,  Hardman 
destroys  the  treasonable  requisition  and  yields  Lucy's 
hand  to  Wilmot.  There  are  many  sides  to  a  character 
and  when  men  are  better  known  they  are  not  so  bad  as 
they  seem. 


WALPOLE 

THIS  innovation  in  comedy  was  developed  from  an 
experiment  adventured  upon  in  the  years  when 
Bulwer  was  actively  engaged  in  producing  plays 
for  the  stage.     It  was  completed  and  published  in  1869. 

The  immediate  object  of  the  work  is  to  show  that  com- 
edy can  be  furnished  with  an  appropriate  muse-like 
measure  in  which  the  mirth  and  satire  of  its  dialogue 
may  be  expressed  more  pleasantly  than  in  prose,  and  it 
submits  the  twleve-foot  couplet  used  by  Moliere  as  an 
available  and  advantageous  verse  for  the  purpose. 

Constructed  for  representation,  it  was  not  submitted 
to  any  manager,  for  Hayward  and  others  who  were  con- 
sulted were  unanimous  in  reporting  that  no  London  the- 
atre possessed  performers  to  whom  the  principal  parts 
in  Walpole  would  be  congenial  or  suited.  Therefore  it 
was  published  as  a  comic  poem  of  a  kind  in  which  there 
is  no  previous  example  in  the  English  language. 

It  is  a  satisfactory  demonstration  of  the  advantages 
metre  gives  to  the  colloquy  or  recital  of  comedy  which 
aims  at  permanence.  The  lines  flow  freely,  elisions  and 
inverted  constructions  are  avoided,  there  is  no  sign  of 
effort,  and  the  dialogue  takes  an  added  point  and  terse- 
ness from  the  rhyme.  It  may  require  greater  care  in  de- 
livery by  the  actor,  but  it  does  not  appear  to  have  oc- 
casioned any  difficulty  to  the  playwright. 


WALPOLE  395 

The  differing  influence  of  private  aims  npon  political 
action  is  illustrated  in  the  work,  which  consists  of  three 
acts.  The  story  is  one  of  intrigue  and  every  incident 
adds  to  our  knowledge  of  the  character  of  Sir  Robert. 

The  tactful  and  masterful  whig  could  only  be  appro- 
priately treated  in  comedy,  for  though  he  was  neither 
more  selfish  nor  unscrupulous  than  other  leaders  of  his 
political  caste,  there  is  nothing  of  the  exalted  or  noble  in 
the  man  or  his  measures.  Large,  strong,  shrewd,  and 
tolerant,  he  was  determined  to  maintain  peace  at  all 
hazards,  and  took  whatever  steps  were  necessary  to  se- 
cure that  boon.  He  bribed  right  and  left,  for  his  ex- 
perience taught  him  that  every  man  has  his  price.  But 
statesmen  must  labor  for  that  which  they  perceive  is  ex- 
pedient, and  use  such  means  as  the  circumstances  of  the 
times  make  available  to  carry  their  measures,  and  the 
censure  incurred  by  Walpole  's  lax  methods  should  be  ex- 
tended to  the  lords  and  commons  of  his  day. 

The  clemency,  adroitness,  and  purposeful  cajolery  of 
the  practical  politician  are  humanized  in  the  comedy  by 
the  addition  of  an  unexpected  tenderness.  Walpole  had 
no  sister,  but  without  the  introduction  of  Lucy  he  would 
have  been  but  coldly  interesting.  The  call  upon  his  emo- 
tions by  revealing  a  warm  heart  within  a  cold  mechan- 
ism increases  and  heightens  our  regard. 

The  exuberant,  sunny,  and  unselfish  Bellaire  is  a  pre- 
possessing embodiment  of  noble  youth.  The  minister 
cannot  induce  him  to  sacrifice  his  participation  in  the 
onrushing  time,  yet  in  a  woman's  face  he  sees  a  fairer 
paradise  than  office  promises  to  the  ambitious  Blount. 
Nothing  in  his  conduct  is  unworthy,  he  acts  as  becomes 


396  COMEDIES  OP  BULWER 

him  without  hesitation  even  when  knowingly  incurring 
danger,  his  trust  in  his  father's  friend  is  not  a  weakness, 
and  it  is  but  just  that  he  wins  the  bride  Blount  would 
rob  him  of,  for  May  and  December  can  never  agree. 

Blount,  the  veteran  leader  of  an  opposition,  has  out- 
grown all  enthusiasms  except  that  of  thwarting  Walpole, 
until  the  knowledge  that  his  ward  has  attracted  a  young- 
er suitor  rouses  passion  and  determination  which  neither 
scruple  nor  consideration  is  allowed  to  interfere  with. 
He  cannot  believe  that  the  superior  person  he  considers 
himself  to  be  can  fail  to  receive  the  preference  of  her  to 
whom  he  deigns  to  offer  marriage,  and  the  obstructions 
his  plans  encounter  make  him  ungenerous,  deceitful,  and 
treacherous,  for 
''When  love  comes  so  late  how  it  maddens  the  brain 

Between  shame  for  our  folly  and  rage  at  our  pain. ' ' 
Dazed  and  made  desperate  by  the  failure  of  his  schemes 
to  secure  a  wife,  he  would  add  crime  to  the  blunder 
which  has  exposed  him  to  ridicule  and  shame,  but  is 
saved  by  the  intercession  of  Lucy  and  the  generous  ad- 
monition of  Walpole  to  hold  up  his  head  and  keep  a 
laugh  for  the  ass  who  has  never  gone  out  of  his  wits  for 
a  lass. 

Walpole  explains  to  his  agent  Vesey  that  until  the  new 
king  and  his  government  are  more  firmly  established  the 
risk  of  an  unfavorable  general  election  must  be  avoided. 
A  bill  extending  the  life  of  the  present  parliament  can 
be  carried  if  Sir  Sidney  Bellair  and  Selden  Blount  can 
be  induced  to  support  it,  therefore  these  men  must  be 
won  or  bought  even  if  the  price  be  high.     Vesey  under- 


WALPOLE  397 

takes  to  arrange  a  meeting  between  Blount  and  the  min- 
ister which  may  bring  about  the  conversion  of  a  present 
opponent.  Bellair  enters  humming  a  tune.  Walpole 
compliments  him  on  the  brilliancy  of  his  last  speech  — 
though  the  subject,  an  attack  upon  himself,  was  not  quite 
to  his  liking;  invites  him  to  Haughton  and  then  leaves 
the  young  member  with  Vesey,  who  wonders  why  Bel- 
lair is  not  among  Walpole 's  friends,  and  hints  at  a  duke's 
daughter  and  a  peerage  as  certainties  if  Sir  Sidney  al- 
lies himself  with  the  minister.  Vesey 's  attempt  to  se- 
cure Bellair  is  unsuccessful.  Blount  enters  fresh  from 
the  Guildhall  where  his  patriotism  has  been  lauded  at  a 
banquet.  Vesey  suggests  that  he  call  upon  Walpole  and 
discuss  a  measure  in  which  they  are  both  interested  and 
names  three  o'clock,  which  Blount,  who  has  vowed  to 
amend  every  ministerial  proposal,  changes  to  two,  then 
addressing  Bellair  the  opposition  leader  seeks  to  estab- 
lish a  community  of  interests  with  him.  Walpole  can- 
not buy  Sir  Sidney  but  Blount  can,  for  he  visits  at  the 
home  of  a  young  lady  who  has  interested  Bellair,  and  by 
facilitating  his  meetings  with  Lucy  Wilmot,  the  patriot 
will  so  serve  him  as  to  ensure  his  constant  support. 
Blount  alleges  that  the  lady  is  of  such  lowly  station  that 
it  is  useless  to  think  of  her  as  a  wife,  and  he  himself 
would  defend  her  against  a  philanderer.  Bellair  per- 
sists in  requesting  that  Blount  aid  him  in  winning  Lucy 
for  his  bride,  and  the  reluctant  patriot  is  constrained  to 
comply. 

Walpole  has  connived  at  Nithsdale's  escape  from  the 
tower,  and  is  pleased  that  the  young  man  has  relieved 
the  government  by  evading  the  fate  of  a  martyr,  which 


N 


398  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

would  have  strengthened  his  party.  Free,  he  can  do  no 
harm.  Blount  calls  and  the  minister  reasons  with  him 
on  the  proposal  to  extend  the  life  of  the  parliament. 
Blount  regards  this  attempt  to  silence  the  nation  as  in- 
famous and  declares  that  he  is  not  to  be  bought.  "Wal- 
pole  argues  that  man  prevails  only  by  buying  and  sell- 
ing, and  that  only  those  who  are  worth  nothing  are  not 
bought.  Blount  is  worth  much,  he  is  wanted,  and  he  is 
asked  to  write  his  price.  On  the  paper  handed  to  him 
he  writes  ''Among  the  men  who  are  bought  to  save  Eng- 
land inscribe  me,  and  my  price  is  the  head  of  the  man 
who  would  bribe  me. ' '  That  strikes  Walpole  as  too  high 
reaching,  but  he  must  have  Blount's  support,  so  other 
means  must  be  thought  of. 

At  Mrs.  Vizard's  house,  where  Lucy  Wilmot  has  her 
home,  two  Jacobite  lords  seek  shelter  for  a  lady  until 
evening  and  as  they  reward  her  amply  she  accepts  the 
charge.  It  is  Nithsdale  disguised  in  his  wife's  dress. 
Blount  enters  and  upbraids  Mrs.  Vizard  for  her  careless- 
ness in  permitting  Bellair  to  see  and  confer  with  Lucy. 
He  has  represented  himself  as  John  Jones,  and  his  in- 
tention to  make  Lucy  his  wife  has  never  been  divulged. 
Now  his  plans  being  in  danger  he  decides  to  hurry  mat- 
ters and  will  see  and  talk  to  Lucy.  To  her  he  denounces 
Bellair  as  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing  to  save  her  from 
whom  he  wiU  marry  her  tomorrow,  and  he  goes  to  per- 
fect the  necessary  arrangements,  giving  the  astounded 
Lucy  no  chance  to  either  protest  or  refuse.  The  news- 
fnen  announce  Nithsdale 's  flight  from  the  tower  dis- 
guised in  his  wife's  dress  and  Mrs.  Vizard,  convinced 
that  her  new  guest  is  the  escaped  lord  and  intent  upon 


WALPOLE  399 

the  offered  reward,  locks  her  doors  and  hurries  to  Wal- 
pole  to  sell  her  prisoner.  Nithsdale,  suspecting  that  he 
is  in  a  trap,  smashes  the  door  of  his  room  and  finds  Lucy 
similarly  caged.  He  explains  his  danger,  asks  for  an- 
other hood  and  mantle,  and  retires  to  change  his  disguise. 
Blount  informs  Bellair  that  Lucy  his  promised  her  hand 
to  Mr.  Jones,  and  Sir  Sidney,  resolved  to  know  his  fate 
from  her  own  lips,  tries  to  attract  h^r  attention  by 
throwing  a  pebble  at  the  window.  Nithsdale  interprets 
this  as  the  signal  of  his  friends  and  descends  from  the 
window  to  the  astonishment  of  Bellair.  The  mistake  is 
explained,  the  danger  told,  and  Nithsdale  is  sent  to  safe- 
ty in  Bellair 's  carriage.  Lucy,  replying  to  Sir  Sidney's 
enquiries,  relates  how  she  has  been  told  to  marry  Mr. 
Jones,  whom  she  reveres  as  a  grandfather  but  never 
dreamed  of  aS  a  lover.  Bellair  arranges  to  come  with  a 
ladder  at  ten  o'clock  and  convey  her  to  his  home,  where 
priest  and  friends  will  be  present.  Blount,  having 
found  a  parson  and  secured  a  cottage,  is  felicitating  him- 
self on  his  success  in  misleading  Bellair,  and  gloating  in 
advance  over  the  cheers  he  will  win  in  the  house  when  he 
exposes  Walpole's  attempt  to  bribe  him,  meets  Sir  Sid- 
ney and  is  told  that  Lucy  never  intended  to  marry  old 
Mr.  Jones,  that  on  the  contrary  she  is  to  become  Lady 
Bellair  this  day  and  he  is  asked  to  attend  the  nuptials 
and  act  as  the  bride's  father.  A  Jacobite  lord  thanks 
Sir  Sidney  for  his  generous  assistance  to  Nithsdale,  who 
has  now  got  safely  away,  and  gives  him  a  letter  exposing 
the  treachery  of  Mrs.  Vizard  which  he  hands  to  Blount, 
who  retains  and  transfers  the  missive  to  Vesey,  making 
the  arrest  of  Bellair  the  price  of  its  surrender. 


400  COMEDIES  OF  BULWER 

Vesey  hurries  to  Walpale,  and  an  order  for  Sir  Sid- 
ney's arrest  is  signed,  but  the  minister  insists  that  only 
gentle  measures  are  to  be  taken.  Bellair  must  stay 
within  doors,  and  Yesey  had  best  keep  him  company. 
When  Mrs  Vizard  came  to  betray  Nithsdale,  Walpole  de- 
tained her  until  his  messenger  could  make  sure  that  the 
bird  was  flown.  In  her  den  his  agent  found  another  cap- 
tive, a  weeping  girl  named  Wihnot,  and  the  minister 
must  know  who  she  is  and  how  she  came  there.  Mrs. 
Vizard  is  summoned.  She  explains  how  Seldon  Blount 
has  been  benefactor  to  Lucy  Wilmot,  an  orphan,  and  the 
name  being  that  of  Walpole 's  sister,  the  minister  sus- 
pects that  she  is  a  member  of  his  own  family  and  he  ac- 
companies Mrs.  Vizard  to  her  home  to  investigate.  An 
interview  with  Lucy  convinces  him  thatjbe  has  found  his 
lost  sister's  child.  He  learns  all  about  her  two  lovers 
and  how  Bellair  proposes  to  take  her  away  tonight.  Dis- 
approving of  the  planned  abduction  Walpole  sends  his 
servant  to  bring  Sir  Sidney.  A  pebble  is  thrown  against 
the  window,  as  agreed  upon,  but  it  cannot  be  the  signal 
of  BeUair,  for  he  is  safe.  Walpole  looks  from  the  win- 
dow and  sees  a  ladder,  so  he  instructs  his  niece  to  whis- 
per '*I'm  chained  to  the  floor,  come  up  and  release  me," 
and  he  hides  behind  the  door.  Blount  enters  through 
the  window.  He  upbraids  Lucy  for  her  deceptions  and 
falsities,  and  when  she  defends  her  actions,  he  grows 
stem  and  declares  that  only  as  his  bride  shall  she  leave 
these  walls.  Then  Walpole  taps  him  on  the  shoulder, 
steps  into  the  balcony  and  pushes  down  the  ladder,  and 
returns  as  Blount,  realizing  the  impossibility  of  escape, 
draws  his  sword.     The  minister  bids  him  abstain  from 


WALPOLE  401 

further  blundering,  and  Lucy  intercedes  and  asks  for- 
ge tfulness  of  a  moment's  madness  which  cannot  wipe  out 
the  long-continued  kindness  shown  a  poor  orphan,  and 
Walpole  agrees  that  the  matter  shall  be  a  secret.  A 
knock  at  the  door  behind  which  Walpole  conceals  him- 
self precedes  the  entrance  of  Bellair,  Vesey,  and  Mrs. 
Vizard.  Sir  Sidney  upbraids  Blount  for  his  betrayal  of 
friendship  and  confidence.  The  minister  interrupts 
what  threatens  to  become  a  quarrel,  by  representing  the 
disclosure  of  Nithsdale's  letter  aa  a  kindness,  for  it  was 
coupled  with  the  condition  of  Bellair 's  pardon,  which  is 
granted,  and  Blount's  presence  is  another  service  since 
it  saves  Sir  Sidney  from  degrading  his  bride  by  the 
scandal  of  flight.  He  asks  Bellair  in  a  whisper  if  he  in- 
tended honest  wedlock  with  one  seemingly  so  far  beneath 
him,  and  when  assured  of  his  good  faith,  bids  him  ask 
of  Walpole  the  hand  of  his  niece,  and  thank  the  friend 
who  has  preengaged  his  consent.  Bellair 's  good  opinion 
of  Blount  is  restored,  and  a  nephew  cannot  vote  against 
his  uncle.  The  generosity  of  the  minister  converts  the 
opponent  into  a  friend  and  assures  the  safety  of  the  bill, 
and  so  the  matters  which  threatened  storm  take  on  an- 
other complexion  and  the  glass  stands  at  fair  for  the 
minister. 


i 


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